When that ancient, battered plane takes off, I will be on it...
Beside me are my treasured bags of trinkets and memories,
Odd assortment from an ill-timed journey ended too soon.
Never wanting to leave, bittersweet time still away has flit.
For all the years I lived in a sea of happy dreams
You would think I had more souvenirs and treasures!
Boxes of sweet words, jeweled bags of love secrets,
Yards of lace with stories woven snug in all the seams.
Yet I carry dried roses whose thorns prick me with anguish,
They rest on silken cushions that once smooth are now torn.
My things are thrown together, hurts mixed among happiness,
Jumbled need and disappointment, tossed about as in a storm.
I no longer have need for glittr'ing dreams and hopes,
For a future among warm and silvered sands.
All I have left are these tattered, old suitcases,
For better or for worse, I must learn to cope.
When that sad and battered plane takes off, I will be on it...
I can no more return to my loved resting place to sit.
V. Mahfood
Coffee Table Poetry for Tea Drinkers
Daily Quote: Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
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"Yards of lace with stories woven snug in all the seams.
Yet I carry dried roses whose thorns prick me with anguish,
They rest on silken cushions that once smooth are now torn."
Vicki,
a great linkage between the two verses in beautiful emotive imagery,
Fergus
Thank you. When the situation is so meaningful, the words just seem to tumble out.