The Junk Pile

Orange with rust and gray with weathered
worn decay,
the heap behind the shed has seen it’s useful better days.
Every discarded piece of junk layered in the miscellaneous maze,
once was brand new and factory fresh before it was forgotten and left to lay.

The genesis of the pile an umbrella used only once and left deployed,
Borrowed from grandpa's car and mindlessly turned into a toy.
Nestled in the tin ribs what was left of an abandoned birthday present from the Wards store,
The main mode of transportation until a driver's license was successfully scored.

Uprooted and discarded an essential portal of the day,
when town was more than walking distance away.
A silver painted mailbox occupied by a generations of mice,
From the days when neighbors were friends and to passing strangers were unguardedly nice.

There was assorted wire and wood protruding with nails and screws.
Combined together in snarl of certain tetanus all serving a specific purpose or two.
The most recent additions a sign of modern times,
A worn out keyboard, a microwave and a mini spare tire that the garbage man denied.

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