In the attic
of dendrites,
and axons,
sits a package
wrapped in
yesterday's
silver paper,
tied with
red ribbons,
filled with
the future
that never
came.
Now, cob webs
drape its corners
and my fingers
no longer
can open
the once pulsing
temptation,
that clung
to my shoulders
year after year.
It seems
the package
left unwrapped
forever stays dear.

04/25/2003

Posted on 04/26/2003
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce