the drawers



I enter
the drawers of memory
I’ m searching for
good times
hidden in the fragile porcelain cup
images of my family
sounds of memories
the past purrs like a cat
I remember my mother
sewing clothes
captured in a smile
her warm look and words
enchanting reality
father telling stories
heard
from grandfather
I close the drawers
of my life
nice images
fly away
like carefree kites





Poetry by Anna Banasiak
Read 499 times
Written on 2020-05-15 at 21:42

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