As tears unbidden from my poor eyes fall I wipe them surreptitiously with your help sobs, suppressed smiles, snot; you have seen ’em all your wee bit does effortlessly emotions schlep from covering heads to wiping sweat from the Grecian times to the Victorian and the present an integral part of dressing you have been ne’er minding the grime or being wet luxuriating being doused in a heady scent often carrying billet-doux unseen!
O dear handkerchief, often your ends I have knotted to not forget a knotty affair and when I was foolishly besotted I did drop you with discreet flair sometimes it led to utterly dubious assumptions sometimes I received the response I craved sometimes you lay in oblivion in the dirt I rescued you then with chicanery and gumption my attempts at coquetry you valiantly braved keeping you close to bosom helped whenever I was hurt
This generation knows only how to use and throw upstart paper napkins and tissues scarce can take your place they may be fancy and pricey and convenient on the go your embroidered and laced appearance embodies class and grace from being neatly tucked in my school uniform pocket to your now delicately perfumed presence in my purse dear handkerchief, I cannot tell you what you mean to me whenever I leave home, you, I do not forget through thick and thin and better and worse you have been my companion, my best buddy.
Written for Eugi’s moonwashed weekly prompt and David’s W3 to Mich’s prompt to write an ode to our handkerchief.
It is time to hail the dead end the closed doors and lack of opportunities It is time to accept that a dead end often points to another path sometimes more scenic and fulfilling than the one you had set your heart on
detours; forced or voluntary open windows into the unknown it may or may not happen serendipitously but there is no accompanying drama of thunderstorm, lightning or celestial prophecy it happens unobtrusively, quite quietly
pushed willy-nilly into teaching high schoolers was like being thrown into the cage of a hungry lion except that they were a bunch of forty antsy teenagers and I, the object of their curiosity I became the lion in the enclosure to be watched and poked at
after those initial days of hiccups we did grow together; the teacher and the taught learning as I began teaching being enriched while enriching lives and the job that I never wanted changed my life forever and continues to define me even after I quit enfolding me in a warm embrace of fuzziness
dead ends are not full stops; they are but semi colons not glaring red but flickering soft green which you may miss if you blink next time you are up against a wall pause, don’t give up and look around believe me you will find a chink.
Thou oozy overload of sweetness, Thou sisterhood of deliciousness and lusciousness. A mere gourmand can’t thus express, A flowery tale more sweetly than my rhyme: What perfect torus is thy shape; No mortal, nor immortal can be immune to thy charms. In the confectionery shops dotted across the worlde, What pâtisserie chef worked magic with simple dough? What piece of baked goody art thou? What gustatory gratification you generate?
Eaten goodies are sweet but those uneaten, Are sweeter; therefore ye sight for sore eyes, stay on; I pray, play with my senses no more! Sugar dressed beauty, I canst leave thee alone, Thy allure is beyond compare! How do I count the ways that I yearn for you? Fathom no one can, the depth of my longing. My bold lips yearn to kiss thy scrumptious skin The untold bliss that you have coated my soul with; Is unparalleled elsewhere in this universe!
Ah! Delirious do I feel as I bite into The pillowy softness of perfection! My eyes close on their own with ecstasy; As a cavalcade of flavours dances on my tongue. The unselfish gooey creaminess is something to die for! I care not if death knocks at my door in this moment of indulgence. Fie! I say to anyone who tries to warn me about your so called imperfections! Jealousy is known drive man to unknown nadir; I dare anyone to make perfidious or calumnious claims against you! I worship the altar on which you sit queen like; My day incomplete without a visit to my majesty, Long live your exuberant voluptuousness!