A pillowcase that still carries a faint scent
Books of poetry, a tube of shampoo, some coffee
And a deep and abiding sense of love
I try to lock the door on these
Until such time as they can be properly explored
A time beyond fear and trepidation
A time beyond deceit and exhaustion
Things, objects, can be hidden, locked away.
Out of sight and on their own they are defused
If only emotion were so tractable........
How can I lock away my reawakened passions
For good poetry
For smiles and happiness
For love?
I make myself another cup of excellent coffee
To remind me of this task
As I weep at the huge, dimly lit structure in my mind
Its large and old and crumbling in areas
Its bound up in metal bracing upon which,
tacked on as if in afterthought,
is written "Love"
A funny old life
No comments:
Post a Comment