Untold: A Poem
Just popping in today to share a poem I wrote last month. While summer tends to be a time where most people relax and take time off, as a working mom of three with passions and desires in this world, it often seems a time where I put everything on hold to just trudge forward. I am sure many of you can relate so I thought I’d share this one with you.
Untold
I am a writer who has no time to write,
The words swirl inside my head,
Never quite reaching the tip of my pen.
The stories I’ll never tell form themselves
In the rare quiet moments alone,
Sitting in the car waiting,
Or beneath a lather of shampoo.
Who will know about Penelope the rat,
Or how I broke my tooth
On my first bike ride in my new town?
Or the time I’m sure a ghost visited me?
Who will know about the times I’ve felt betrayed?
Or when I was the betrayer?
Who will know?
Sands slip through the hourglass
And I gather more unwritten stories
With each passing moment.
One day, there will be no more words swirling about,
No more grains of time left to fall.
They’ll say, “She was a mother, a wife, a fierce friend.”
But she wasn’t a writer.
