By Christina Bome
Salmon Arm, BC
Another day in my sequestered solitude.
The kettle wails like children at play, ‘My turn! My turn!’
While the refrigerator squeals its piglet squeal
As it opens, accusingly, one more time.
One more day, depressing as an empty wine bottle
Like a little grey worm, I devour family photographs–
Kodak, sepia, aging black and white–
When an age-old face appears and burns like grit in my eye,
Carefully, quickly,
The photos, yesterday’s leftovers,
Are filed, boxed and shelved
To fade in farther corners
Where even the past cannot reach.
Day 39,
Copyright © Christina Bome, 2020
Interesting poem and well written. How true it is when we look back at photographs of long ago and when the last page is turned, back to reality!!
Thanks for sharing this Christina.