Faded Collection

When I was a child
I collected spiders webs
from the hedgerows in a forked stick,
dripping morning dew, sparkling
like diamonds in the sunlight.

As I grew into a teenager
I slept in my room cocooned
by walls filled with Elvis eyes
adoring me;

as a young mother,
I would hoard
the smiles and sticky kisses
of my children with pride.

Later in middle age
love became rare and elusive
difficult to hold on to.
Harsh words and heartache
were collected all too easily.

Now in old age I catch
faded memories in a cleft stick
and blow away the dust
from the cobwebs
to see more clearly
the collected storms and teacups,
and I smile wistfully at life’s irony.

©
Copyright
VMM
2005