Curating Kitsch

I have got so many things to pack.
Frozen in place planning my attack.

These shells that we shed & leave behind.
In a new place, a new you to find.

Yet, still, we carry plot points along.
One or two refrains from lifelong song.

So, from the rubble of what is shed…
We pluck out memories that aren’t dead.

Room’s been made for what’s mine to find me.
Choice old things to welcome each newbie.