A bouquet of fragile expectations—
figures huddled and strung together
like a bunch of poignant flowers
propped up in an imaginary vase
Wishing to capture what is not theirs
to still Time’s beating heart or steal
a frame from a still developing film
making faces into a two-way mirror
Already they gape into the future
at their own fossilized memories
crowded out the heart’s album
and evaporating as vivid dreams
Unbidden like mental hiccups, they will arise
those frozen feeling-tone remembrances
whether jealously guarded in a chest of drawers
or happened upon during unguarded moments
Preserving what no longer is:
lost loves, illusions, or selves...
they fill us with dumb wonder or dull ache—
was that really me, and what have I become?
© Yahia Lababidi
(Images: private collection)
This is my entry for Day 16 of @d-pend's The 100 Day Poetry Challenge. If you're looking to hone your craft (as a writer or Steemian) and discover a sense of community, please, consider joining Steemit School on Discord