The twilight had set in
and I was at my study.
The house had been vacated to me for a day
and I liked not solitude, conferred.
Tired, I tried to merse self in things dear
and fetched my pouch of souvenirs.
I cradled the closed blue package ribboned red
with my heart awaiting pure bliss contained.
The ribbon fell loose and the package open
and gleamed in light my very precious.
Things, each significant, signifying something
Played images in minds eyes, differing from eyes
I rummaged through them, handling each
with care and tender love.
And having lived with each for some moments
caressed them back in.
Ribboned, I placed the package in its place
and closed my eyes to appreciate the feel.
Blinked in me a thought though
of a souvenir long lost.
This little piece of heart, a souvenir very dear
given to me in anger and play
Was an old piece of ruled paper
That bore words, words of tease.
They had read, the last when I read,
“You have a goat-like face
an irritating voice
an unnerving profile
and, a disgusting like for the colour pink.”
Lost, nay, it was requested return
by the giver who then said
‘Let that be unsaid, shall it…