When one’s cleaning up a life
There is very often strife.
The kids don’t want our stuff
Though they try not to be gruff.

So here we are today,
Brow’s sweat in hair that’s gray,
Deciding what’s worth cash,
Or if it’s headed for the trash.

It’s a process very strange.
We can no longer rearrange.
Because we really need stuff gone,
We put some “FREE” out on the lawn.

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