The Morgue File
i fold salt into the remainder of my day
and watch parsley
soak up oil's emotions
a round of bread nearby.
i taste tomorrow
floating bittersweet on my tongue
as the day settles,
pours out its stories
for those who pause
I read a piece today about aging. I read once that the young are rarely the ones who enter therapy as they haven't lived long enough to have experienced regret. The taste of regret and loss as we age fascinates me. And I am reminded again of how societies can hold onto their elders and treasure them--when we all pause to listen. I hope you enjoy this small write.
copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015