Tattered Relics

There is a stairway leading
To an impossibly careless room
Of idle pages strewn about
Tired reflections of dusty gloom

The paper on the walls is peeling
Sagging with its age
Just like those recollections reeling
I vow to forget, and soon

This ancient room of decaying dreams
Tears away my breath
And I’ll never find what it means
To forsake and tear my past

-Polished from Poetry course
December 2010

1 comment:

Barbara said...

That is a very good poem! I'll have to reread it again and again to get the full meaning.