Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Morning Pockets

My morning coat has pockets
stuffed with wonders and what ifs
I thrust my hands into them
and blindly tell them over in my mind.

There are roads still to be followed,
like a tangled skein of string,
words to say, and turns to take,
and faces waiting to be given names.

There are cherished outcome wrappers
like disappointment bookmarks
that rustle when I touch them,
empty, yet still vying for attention.

There are keys that jingle snippets
of songs I don’t remember,
existing as a promise
of opening that  special door one day.

There are folded bits of paper,
numbered patterns on their wings,
like butterflies at rest, they
wait for my decipherment to fly.

I could empty all my pockets
throw the contents on the bed
but the magic might escape and
I rather have the wonder than the truth.



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