The Lost Souvenir













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…

… for you have become a dear!’


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s