source
You read my book of life,
As if it were a novel.
As if the moments,
Should be contiguous
As is the progression of a life,
But they are not.
Missing sections,
Jumping from a single chapter,
To a dozen later,
And then back again.
In a single stanza,
The years an abstract battle,
Of confusion to unravel.
Each post in fragments scattered,
Each page a story of its own,
Each stanza a song in its own right.
Each stanza a song in its own right.
My world... my life...
Each moment buried,
Like a forgotten jewel,
Like a forgotten jewel,
In the mine that is my mind,
In remembrance,
For all time.
—Michele Cameron Drew
0 comments:
Post a Comment