Home

Inside my bag are packed the things

that fill my heart with joy

the faded, threadbare shawl

that whispers 

a tinplate soldier toy.
Inside my bag wrapped well in cloth 

a tiny mirror fragment

immortalised inside that glass

the ghosts of those I love

Some memories are intransigent
Inside my bag stowed very safe

two  engraved silver napkin rings

a wooden bowl of cedar wood

an ebony black queen a

reminder of past sins
Inside my bag I have my home

memories, from days gone by

I lost the rest, I am alone

I will be till I die
The hostel for the homeless 

Is where I rest my head

My bag stops my neurosis

My home sits under my bed

2 thoughts on “Home

  1. Whoof…that’s really powerful! The imagery and the emotional content is wonderful, but leaves enough open to the imagination to allow us to inhabit this sorrowful world. Great post!

    Like

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