22nd January 2020

 

a ray of sunshine
into a rain-stripped land
floods recede

© Rachel Green January 2021

another bad dream
where I'm packing up belongings
at the end of a holiday
to a beautiful place.

I should shed the excess
all those books and paintings
no-one will ever look at;
no-one will ever read.
The plots in my head are re-runs
The Hero's Journey;
the Nine Basic Plots.
Throw away the clothes I've not worn
since the onset of Covidity
and the year the world changed;
the games we can't play
because we can't see each other;
the art supplies I'll never use.

When you dream of me
am I young and full of hope?
Thin and beautiful and dark-maned?
Or am I old and fat,
wasting the remaining years
on nothing to be proud of?

When they think of me at all
will they remember
that at least I kept the garden nice?
And if I can't donate a worn-out body
can I be consumed by animals?

© Rachel Green January 2021