The Empty Basket
Years ago, I bought a basket,
Plain, unappealing –
Weave already unraveled,
I only paid one dollar –
I set the basket on the shelf,
Separated, secluded –
And there it stood,
Unbefitting the decor –
I filled that basket,
With defeated dreams –
My lonely heart,
My deserted thoughts –
I loaded that basket,
With yearning love –
My unspoken need,
My every want –
I found myself gazing,
Often, in fondness –
A beautiful reminder,
For somber times –
My hands may be empty,
My pockets uninhabited –
Aloneness taking its toll,
Privation draping its veil –
The basket stands proud,
Holding seeds of intangibility –
Unfaltering in its stance,
Draped with valor, still –
This Christmas I give you,
An empty basket –
Weave already unraveled,
All I could afford was a dollar –
Copyright © Deborah Simpson | Year Posted 2007
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