The Purse

During my living My melodic dream I longed for Sprouted in me The nature of the self-appraisal With my life stunning in vivid shades I scribbled the poetry. In the blank paper Of my innermost minds. I grasped – you and me Quite distinctly Highest in morality Topmost in significance This lust of mine Smashed these words Of this poetry of mine In numerous forms In several fragments. These words I etched Shattered all over the grounds may spin out in futility I amassed them into my purse And constrain meticulously its mouth. Eventually, At the moment when I set myself Selecting and Choosing each words In the winnow of my inner minds The similes of the words Revive and breathe as it’s again In the poetry of mine. *