In a dark closet
hanging from steel wires
in the shape of man's desire:
Gossamer gold silk, sheer black lace,
plunging neckline with rhinestone jewelry,
held together by memories:
Studio 54, cruise ship fling, Paris affair.
I was there! I was there!
Never thought of seasons changing.
Mementos packed tightly for years.
I give them away,
so another will have her day.
Disco music played out,
people parted in pairs.
Spring is over, I shed no tears.
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Author:
Joan Reese (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2025 19:28
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
A case of spring cleaning here. Intriguing words in this poem. Nicely done
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