This week’s poem stirred by early morning thoughts and regrets… and resolutions. Memories of other lives, lived in a different light.
Unexercised
That part of myself
long ago put away, tinned,
with tightly screwed lid,
an icy corner behind flavors we don’t like.
Under fine dusting of neglect,
artistically articulated
in outdated diaries,
stored in drawers behind extra keys to lost locks.
Despite lack of airing and exercise
I trust she will wake when called.
Dhaka 2016
I love this poem Rilla! I think we all as human beings can identifie ourselves with what you have captured in a few sentences and words! And I wonder what flower will come out, be refreshed and blossom! Wonderful poetry! Much love!
Very nice poem…loved the last bit….