At fifty-two,

worn at the edges


and yet childish

like a small


threadbare blanket

hidden in a chest


in the attic

for forty years.

Poetry by Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-12-09 at 10:03

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dott Print text Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
Your words here evoke a feeling of fragility for me. The "threadbare blanket hidden in a chest" gives a strong impression of that. But also one of abandonment, desolation at the same time ("in the attic"). It's a sad self-portrait, but I can understand the feeling on a personal level too. Can't say I'm all too crazy about this aging process thingy either lol ;) Always enjoy the way you write, merci.