Bits In-Between

Bits In-Between

Pulled in two directions:
From comfort into the future,
From familiar into the new and strange.
This land of in-between
Holds quaking comfort,
Leaving me barely standing
Amidst boxes and squandering.

Leaving an old home of comfort,
Means packing boxes of possessions,
Working, but transfixed to what is now barren
Time washed pale walls of memories.
I want to move on, or I want to stay put.
The land on passing this way
Is emotionally trying, but good.

Pick it all up.
Put it all down again.
That's the melancholy of it all.