I have notebooks and folders scattered and tucked into dark places throughout my house, and most of the time, I forget they exist. I’ve been on a cleaning and organizing binge as of late, and I have found odd, mysterious little treasures. Many writers save everything we’ve ever written, not so much because we really like most of it, but because we figure there’s a chance some of it will strike inspiration into us later.
I don’t know how inspiring these little bits of poems actually are, and I have no recollection of actually writing them, though it is undeniable that this handwriting belongs to me. Perhaps there never was an occasion for the words, but rather an idea for characters in a story I locked in the back of my mind. I don’t even have any clues to when I may have written them. Anyway, here they are, just for fun.
Sweet and serene,
I found an old photo of you and me.
Nobody knew back then
How close we were to
stumbling
off
the
edge.
…and…
The silent waif of yearning
hungers for a gentle word,
a soft caress of love,
to help stop the mourning.
caverns of my mind 