NaPoWriMo2020 Day 1

My first effort for National Poetry Writing  Month which starts today:

At the bottom of the bookcase, in the dust and dark,
Those long forgotten treasures. Behold your past!
Books, papers, lesson notes, plans for funerals, Christmas...
All part of the receding past.  Like a hair line.  How do they just disappear?


Some bring a smile.  Some just a question.  "Why?"


Some bring sadness.


Part of a life.  A small slice of a soft creamy sponge gobbled up.
The meaning and the need intertwined in longing.


A longing gone.  The hairline receding still.  Bald.


Time to let go...