Gathering Dust
Alone In her chair,
she rocks and rocks
through empty days.
Cracked picture frames
of memories on the mantle
gather dust, in the back drop
of her life, where broken dreams
speak silent words, the bittersweet on display.
Thoughts of youth,
still bring a heavy heart
and tears that never fall.
Instead of love, she settled
for his lust; lost, she felt his fist
more than his kiss until she knew
nothing but feelings of being numb, detached…
a young woman one day grew old overnight in an old chair,
slowly rocking away the past…memories often coming too fast.
In youth’s glow, she thought
beauty would last forever…as time crept into fine
crevices around her eyes, he grew tired of her, and she
thanked God every day for sanctity. Then, one day she didn’t.
Thick-skinned, loneliness settled on her neglected mantle. Middle-aged,
tired and starting over, she thought she had time to rediscover herself, her own
desires, but bitterness found a home. As years went by, she, too, gathered dust.
Now layered In despair, she hides her loneliness and trust. With a life’s worth of broken dreams, each day may be her last. Sometimes, a heart disregarded is worth saving...sometimes, it’s too late.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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