The Messy Drawer

I wrote this earlier this year. It's just another example of my "weirdo ways" as Laura called it. The idea just came out of nowhere as I was driving. By the next morning it had pretty much written itself. It happens sometimes. Stuff just pops into my head. I tried to explain it to her more than once. I have his strange inner dialogue that makes me think about colours and words and ideas while I go about my day. I could be walking along and I would notice the light and shade of a tree. I'm captivated by it. My mind will drift and I'll think about the colours and the light and shade. I don't just see a brown trunk and green leaves, I see blues in the shadows and a myriad of yellows, oranges and greens. It's true, I probably talk a better art game than the actual act, but it happens still. It's not like I'm drifting off into some psychedelic hippy daydream, I'm talking seconds. It's the same with words. Little phrases come out of nowhere and I think that's a nice idea or they lend themselves to a nice image. I need to be quick to remember them as, like my dreams, they can disappear as quick as the came. This is once such example. Anyway, these little moments used to get an "eye roll" or the Laura Look as it is now called since Hallie started to perfect it. I'm sure this would get the same. I understood that the look wasn't disapproval, she just didn't like things to be out there, as it were. She was quite private and this may have broken that code! However, here it is. I feel like it belongs here.

The Messy Drawer

There's a messy drawer at home.

I know you've got one too.

Mine is in the kitchen,

Near the fridge,

Full of reminders of you.

A messy drawer of memories

It's full to the brim.

The drawer,

Like my heart,

Can't fit any more in.

Cards for a birthday that you'll never sign.

Notes, accounts and numbers now exclusively mine.

Shopping lists of things that now I won't buy,

Handwritten by you that I touch with a sigh.

Those little things that belong in a memory box,

Your key, never again, will marry its lock.

A hair band, a bauble of red and of black,

Missing your hand to tie her hair back.

A brush, and some lip balm, a small Lego toy,

Bought for the child who is now a grown boy.

Letters from school, the council, the bank,

Kids party invites, the replies remain blank.

A stone, a shell, a green sea glass shard,

A doodled red heart, I Love You on the card.

A purse, passport pictures, tissues, some gum,

A keyring as a gift, the world's greatest mum.

Receipts, bills and pictures now frozen in time.

And all those things now exclusively mine.

A letter from the doctor, informing us when,

The contents of the drawer won't be the same again.

I've a messy drawer full of memories

In the kitchen at home.

The drawer,

like my heart

Is best left alone.