Inner Woman Volume 2 -
54 February
When I miss so many
and I wish I could dress
time like a sundae with
a cherry on top
February, cursedly long
as I wait for the sun
to bring my thoughts
from the brink of extinction
The smoky grey of early dusk
is lifting but still I am shadowed
with the lack of freedom
of cold
of memories I cannot push into
the cupboards of my mind.
Icy umbrae dig into my soul
questioning
undermining
commiserating with doubt
And on the shelf,
proudly displayed
the blue ribbons
the trophies
medals
of a life so foreign now
I wonder if the triumph of my
glory years truly belong to me
Am I the winner the display proclaims?
Or merely the dreamer who never vied?
In short, am I the impostor from another life?
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