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Image for the poem Layers

Layers

Dusty mantle
Where has the time gone and
why do you pretend to be important
When was your last visitor and
will they notice any difference
from the day you held my books
or the brightest of displays

Does anyone but me
understand your true intention
of holding prized possessions
for all the world to see
Is it really just you and me
What about grandmother’s clock
or the plants from my best friend
or the books that I collected
from random shops and shelves
The oil lamp, the candle lamp
a magnifying glass and scissors
some matches and a rock and
a cheap blue candle with
the art above it
done by a child
in a large hand painted gold frame
above the Ruku bowl I made long ago

It’s not just me
These things are really not mine
but they belong to memories
of people and places and
times spent apart
now all brought together
A mantle is no place for privacy
yet it offers a treasure
of limitless unsaid secrets.

BethAnne 05/17/2019
Written by bimbammit
Published
Author's Note
I downsized into a condo and I bought an electric fireplace and put my favorite things on it. And days go by it sits neglected and without visitors. It's not just about the mantle, but it's about our homes in general. Poised for attention that is rarely garnered.
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