The Passion

The Passion

It was a burning need
the desire to hold and hoard
not cars or rare antiques
but small and natural things

coloured stones from a beach
pales driftwood’s sculpted forms
parrots’ feathers of every hue
and discarded skin of a snake

such wonders of diversity
a bower built of treasured finds
until they overwhelmed my home
overtook the room for me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Jones Avatar
February 27, 2024 at 9:37 PM
Interesting never would think one would collect snake skin.
Fermanis-Winward Avatar
February 27, 2024 at 10:01 PM
Dear Karen, We have lots of deadlies living here in the bush, so a harmless skin is a gift. Much better than stepping on a live one.
Jones Avatar
February 27, 2024 at 9:36 PM
Interesting never would think one would collect snake skin.
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