Relics

(of my desert days)

Author’s photo, through art filter

When brooding on the one who might have been —

I stub my toe on memory, second guess
the paths I stepped when young
and hemmed in doubt; stumble
over flotsam tossed up from
those clouded years — tokens
stripped of sentiment; amulets
now bare of charm; mail order
books, rehashing loss; and yellowed
clinic brochures, that promised
one last chance —

all this stuff; this useless, faded
trash of fractured dreams.

© Zarina Dara 2019. All Rights Reserved

In response to Jane’s prompt on Chalkboard:

Upsizing