 |
|
|
 |
|
9/52 The Cocktail
The Glass that now is empty
Was once full to the brim
And glistening with colour
A cocktail for a king
Dressed up with colour and finery
Pleasing to your eyes
She joined you in your company
Joined you in life’s highs
But now the glass is empty
She’s not lifted to your lips
Her radiance diminished
There’s nothing left to sip
This cocktail glass so yearns to be full of colour again
and asks "will I ever be the same"
Because her outside is grey, cracked and battered
When IT reminds her of IT's pain
10/52 The Box
The box is on the shelf
It’s been there for a week
I see it when I get my tea
I pretend I will not break
Although the cracks are getting bigger
What’s inside the box will mend
The emptiness inside me
I’ve been told the box is my new friend
The content in the box
Is now sitting in my hand
I watch its motionlessness
Its power I cannot stand
It beckons me to unite with it
Mesmerizing me with what could be
But my senses get a grip
I put it back and drink some tea
|
|
|