Posie & Mosey Monday

On Mondays, I like to share word posies with my readers. Comments are disabled so you can enjoy this gift of poetry then mosey on along to your list of daily do's.*

Please drop back by on Wednesday, my interactive blogging day of the week. Until then, have a lovely and productive Monday and Tuesday.

*Hungry for more in-depth Monday posts? Visit any or all of the entertaining and insightful blogs on my sidebar. ;)

Crow’s Feet

~ Tina Gray

Tiny seeds of youth are these…

the trinkets of our heritage bound as treasures

in dusty boxes and crinkled brown papers.

We linger in our attics like hungry crows,

seeking with rickety beaks

for the soul’s bloodmeal-

the substance of a dimming past.

Feeding late into the night as our lights blur

and our candles drizzle to stocky stumps of wax… 

we gobble up this moth-eaten reserve

filling our paunches to brim

with temporal gratification.

Grazing upon the faces of beloved lost ones,

existing now to us only as flavorless fillings

sandwiched between crinkly crusts of cellophane.

We putter upon aging feet…

fluttering lame limbs no longer capable of flight

-now simply mementos

flapping through showers of dust.

We perch atop splintered wooden horses

and scramble through threadbare muslin dolls-

glutting on the ageless beauty of tattered quilts,

salivating over strands of tarnished pearls.

 

 

In our desperation, we feed in a ravenous frenzy-

believing the seed awaits -

secured in crates

enameled by the snowy plush of time.

Yet by daring to intrude, we break the spell

inside this preserve of unbroken hours.

We taint the spotless climb with tender prints,

and shiver, bare and featherless in the bitter cold.

 

 

Any remaining hopes waft away

Like chafe upon the harsh winds of reality

as we realize the seeds have blossomed and withered,

never to be reclaimed…

 

 

All that remains are the spatterings of crow’s feet,

trudging a trail of discontented longing

upon today’s dusty shrouds of nevermore.