Sommewhere packed away
in my closet
is a small box
of souvenirs
from a younger life
Souvenirs
saved by a foxy female
who tucked them away
as small sacrifices
little deaths
to serve up and honor
The Goodess True Love
who would
one day
honor these moments
with one long
cherishing marriage
one special divine dream
of love and devotion
But these are just
souvenirs
and no longer
hold promises
for the midlife lay
who unearths them
and laughs
and weeps
and remembers
the 28 post-it notes hidden about the room
the three delicate pink roses
the skull ring
the drum stick
the sonnet read
the poem written
For April, I am challenging myself to both #NaPoWriMo but also the #AtoZChallenge.
This is my personal blog about being present and in the moment and working to keep this fire within me burning.