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Playing catch-up, part one:
Prompt #08: Hope

It's a million weights per minute,
each heavier than the last
and creased with new wrinkles.
In the minute of their fall,
it would seem only appropriate
to question a life's work
and wonder if the recollections we tacked
to the peppered-brown corkboard
are worth more than the pile of ashes
they'll produce when they burn.
When we tumble dry at the end,
flailing dust mites,
some kind of beauty,
some kind of hope,
some kind of stamp
I might leave behind,
my only hope
is that static cling
proves more powerful than lost memories.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Coheed & Cambria, Time Consumer