A little background: I’ve never received any formal training in poetry writing, so there is a possibility that it totally sucked, and I’m completely oblivious about it. I wrote this on my birthday two years ago. I guess it was my first attempt to use words as therapy. It’s been on my computer and I haven’t reopened it ever since. I’m not gonna say too much about it. I wanna leave some room of imagination to my readers. 🙂 I’d be glad to hear from you all because honestly I have no idea how good/bad it is.
Time Machine By Nicky English
Left right left right click.
A folder of keepsakes.
The smiles, the boulevard, the lake
made the chapter all epic.
Up down up down scroll.
Stories left untold.
The decision, the trips, the row,
Unfulfilled vows to be let go.
Stored in this special file cabinet,
The most scenic pictures ever taken.
Never can they be rewritten.
Faded but no less genuine.
Removed from a prime device,
Locked away from prying eyes,
Never to probe or scrutinize.
Gone but trust there was no lies.
Not is it replacing.
Yet another stage of growing.
Not is it vanishing.
Yet it is a finishing.
What is left is plenty
Of room for a new journey
With the one who is worthy
Of the precious remaining memory.
Aren’t we glad to have this magic box
To put away the haunting paradox?
Thanks to the little lock.
The bittersweet can forever be docked.