We sprinkled memories
Over drinks and ice,
The added flavor
And the burn we needed
To drown the concoctions
Our tales produced.
When neither of us
Could find the truth
At the end of the lines
We pulled to the table
With us,
Both thinking we knew best,
Without shared space
And shared grievances.
Still we swallowed
Pretending not to choke,
Not meeting eyes,
Over our chipped glasses
That we pretended
Was the fine china-
We smashed over tiles
Before our grand escapes
From the home we built
Out of match stick and straw-
With the imagined belief
It would last.
And now you come
Meeting my tales
With yours,
Holding sticks
To my already lit match
Trying to summon peace
When I'm ready for Your war.
About the Creator
Katrina Thornley
Rhode Island based author and poetess with a love for nature and the written word. Works currently available include Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature, Arcadians: Wooden Mystics, 26 Brentwood Avenue & Other Tales, and Kings of Millburrow.
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Comments (1)
Sometimes 'sprinkling' sparkling, pleasant memories will add a good, stabilizing glue to the match sticks and straw. Sprinkling good memories every day has great rewards.