Bag It and Tag It

You thought you’d get away with it,

brush your issues under the carpet,

bury the bloody hatchet

under leaves soaked in denial.

But

baggage has a way

of popping up at unexpected ports,

velcro to warm woollen socks,

 giving away your egress

with a resounding crunch.

That rake in the corner of your garage

hasn’t seen much use;

it has your name written all over it.

Time to wear off your summer snacking

and take a good hard look at

what lies all over your lawn.

Bag it and tag it,

and the snow will find

softer landing.

Holes

I see your pain,

the places where jaws masticated,

flesh was torn,

air stung punctures

and cud was savoured.

Offender took his leave

with no idea of how badly

you were trodden upon;

oblivious to damage,

he went on to bigger and better things,

and earned his wings.

I would say that I’m sorry for your hurt,

so very sorry –

because I am.

But

those holes –

they give me

the only ray of light I’ve had

down here in years.

They give me

precious beverage,

liquid life,

as rain trickles over

your jagged edges.

So don’t waste your energy

seeking Offender long gone;

know that

I am better for your scars,

and know that

I think you’re

beautiful.