Gaudy

Photo by Miikka Luotio on Unsplash

If gaudy could apply to a living thing
not just some tacky garment or
overly thematic object,
I would write it under my name.

I am a cheap centerpiece;
little more than a group of strangers’ talking point.

They praise my emotional value
— reminisce over the history —
That is, until I don’t work with the Fung Shui anymore;
so odd and out of place.

I’ve watched rooms shift around me.
People leave and sentiments lost.

If there comes a time to choose
whether to succumb to the total redecoration of life
or be cast to the attic,
I suppose I’ll be collecting cobwebs
over compliments soon enough.

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