Bags
opening bags of old, memories flood, lump forms...
looking around new bags in sight, where they come from? ah... from
those of recent times, from those whose promises never fulfilled,
from those where truth is foreign
slowly i will, sort thru its contents, some to throw, some to pack
out of sight. in sorrow, in joy, in pain, in vain, all are memories
of a time where emotions sore, where hearts ruled.
all is treasured for they are, my youth, my life, my existance, my
being.
in a corner it sits, a box of glass, lined in velvet, locked and
sealed. it's contents, a thousand pieces, crushed, shattered. it's
label, my heart........
