Take the stapler and the scotch tape dispenser.
Those pictures go
and I would like the leather chair.
I can do without the bookshelf.
I will leave the computer table
and the coat rack.
My files will have to go
down the hall.
Don't forget my coffee cup
and desk trinkets.
And I guess that is all we need to move.
Moving offices is a mixture
of the sadness of a lost past
the happy promises of the future.
A four decade career means
changing offices many times.
I close my eyes and try to recall each one.
From the desk in the back of a class room
to the one in the hall
of the old Temp building.
Then the thrill of an office
in the new faculty building.
I remember the pride that then came
with a suite of offices
and a second one across campus.
Each move the end of a chapter
of a professional life.
And now this move I greet
like the last chapters of a good book.
Too much enjoyed to be finished.
I can remember more moves
than I can anticipate.
Each book and file has a unique meaning to me
so some will be tossed out.
I have fear for what will be lost.
What ego greed to want my meaning
willed, inherited
and appreciated by the next generation.
The walls of my old office will never
never to the new tenant the dialogue
of the plays that were performed on that stage.
The pictures are gone leaving only a nail hole
to irritate the new occupant.
Life passages marked
by the moves up and down the hall.