Gone For Unending Days
Locked doors,
All kept away,
Hid from view,
They are not keepsakes,
They trouble and hurt,
They weary and hunt,
They barge and disparate,
They are disturbing thoughts,
They interrupt the flow of fond memories,
They encroach on salient moments,
Unlocking yesterday is an ailing pill,
It is cloaked in the sheets of the night,
It is buried in the deepest of the earth,
Corroded beyond use are its keys,
Fastened shut are its doors.
March 18, 2022.
Copyright © Thompson Emate | Year Posted 2022
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