Vintage

I still have those red caps somewhere

claustrophobic in a dark shelf

ruing loss of innocence

and trying to decipher

burdens in different shapes

the owner carries now.

 

I still have a picture of the tree

lying in a junk drawer

envious of its glam successors

it knows that theworld is digital now

sepia tones created at a click

who cherishes vintage robustness?

 

I still feel the touch on my shoulder

warm and reassuring

but the arm is no longer there

replaced by a picture on the mantelpiece.

Plaited hair is a luxurious mane now

incubating tensions of the world

 

(100 words)

 

100 Word Wednesday