Dad’s garage began with basic tools
     hammer, wrenches in a red box
The collection grew
     camping gear, Christmas decor, bicycles
every nook and cranny packed
     like starved sardines

Dad’s skill for finding the elusive
tidbit gained him notoriety in our family
Only he could find anything in that 
     beautiful mess of a system
     for years

All Dad’s things 
     and some of ours
are still there
     lurking in shadows yet
lost to him

The pile we used to tease him about
     All those countless items have
taken on new meaning for
     nameless 

“I think my brain is breaking”
he said