It is still there
That first layer of paint
Buried under several coats
A hidden but permanent stain
No matter its color
That will remind you of time
You thought you buried forever
In the past you left behind
Time moves forward
As we all tend to do
But it still catches up
And will always chase you
So knock the wall down
Or just move away
But you’ll always find that color
To remind you of yesterday
What was the first layer then
You’ll use to hide once again
01.23.09
Chipped Paint
Posted by Poetry Echoes at 8:45 PM
Labels: Family history, Sonnet
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2 comments:
Another great use of extended metaphor. Nicely done.
Thanks, Gabriel. The person about whom I write still doesn't know it's about her.
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