Jigsaw

We are in pieces.
We are whole.
Subdued now, and put away,
For rainy, someday soon,
Sunday afternoons.
A puzzle and a prize,
All in one.

Yet even as the pieces fit,
We are not content,
Though we slot together, there are bits missing.
And when we are finished, once again,
We are broken up.
So only a memory of our image remains.

Take me from the shelf.
Open the box,
Come and complete this.
You know that if I am the edge,
Then you are the picture,
So come,
Pick me first.



Poetry by CJ Perrin
Read 494 times
Written on 2011-02-21 at 15:58

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countryfog
I like this a lot . . . the "puzzling" nature of a relationship.
2011-02-22