How soon you became yesterday,
Crumpling under a pile of tomorrow,
Your dying voice gasping for  breath
Choking below my islands of fancy.

Once you too were full of my life,
A hopeful wisp in a summer breeze
But seasons do not wait for love
We could not weather that winter.

The winds whip yet I stay calm,
Packing all the little pieces we left,
For I know how to record things,
And simply store them away.



In response to the daily prompt


One thought on “Hoarding

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