Poem -
Matchsticks
Cleaning the house today,
Chanced upon an old matchbox.
Just two matchsticks-
One intact, the other burnt.
There wasn’t any need, yet
I struck the one intact and
Watched it completely
Shrivel into a skeletal twig
Of charred coal.
The past few luminous moments
Lit upon those childhood memories-
Hidden away from mom,
Secretly lighting up matchsticks,
Just for the guilty fun of it!
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Comments
It's really only in poetry that one can capture a small (seemingly inconsequential) moment like this with such vivid clarity and bring it into sharp relief; leaving it hanging in the air...pregnant with significance.
Beautiful!
[Of course it could also be a manifestation of your obsessive compulsive need to bring balance to a chaotic world...either way, it's well written!]
J ;)
Shukriya so much Jason! Your reviews are always an education. :)
While I am an admirer of balance and equilibrium, am not too obsessive about them...hehe.