My favourite shirt that holds secrets
I’ve yet to share,
the white one, embroidered lace
you cherish,
one thousand and fifty six records
not played since '99,
books owned a lifetime more
collecting dust
and spider’s webs
Yours to keep.
My written words of capitulation
hidden, my image true,
the sudden depths of loneliness
you will search,
music of my mind disguised
free form,
your tears tattooed, her face
freezing in time
lullabies confide
Mine to keep.
My silent rage of yesterday
withdraws to slumber.
© 2009 Michaela James.
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