Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?
No special thing that springs to mind
There were too many left behind.
Yet another packing case
Another move, another place.
As army brats we just moved on.
Never any place for long.
We couldn’t take it all with us.
Just move on. Try not to fuss.
So hard decisions. Sometimes tears.
We’d stay one place at most three years.
Precious things we’d give away
Leave them for some other boy.
So all I’ve left is wanderlust.
There’s no one home for such as us.
And so today we’re in Chile.
Life’s not so bad. What can I say?
Andrew Green's Poems 