Wrap me in the familiar
Speak to me in the past tense
Don’t stoke the dying embers
Let me shiver in the bitter chill
No need to cushion the walls
Lock me in dogmatic confinement
Don’t try to feed my gnawing hunger
For I crave a feverish dream
I wear my favorite faded blues
Comforting, soft; ragged
Don’t wash my stained garb
Its soiled with sacred sweaty ink


Comments: 38
Debra, I've missed you terribly and thanks for taking the time out to read something you can't stand! :)
I have found great comfort in this today. Thank you so much for putting into writing what I am feeling.
Amanda, this made me beam, shimmer, and remember.
I understand your poem very well, and I know the value of the comfort of a well-worn pair of jeans. May your comfort zone continue:)
struck your pen and my words fell out
So glad to have you back in the zone
and how you align words all about.
Good to see ya. You're climbing out of that rut.
Somehow I knew this verse would bring me the comfort I was needing. I have the serenity prayer posted by my desk at home & need to get a copy for my other desk at the vet's office (since I seem to be there much more than I used to). Spirituality, I must say, brings great comfort to me also. *hugs* to you, dear friend.
'Don't try to feed my gnawing hunger
For I crave a feverish dream.'...
Lines with a world of their own.
Sorry I've been out of the loop, my laptop has been in the shop for what seems like an eternity. The tech guy that was trying to recover the data, finally had to use one of his "old tricks" and put the hard drive in the freezer overnight to recover the data! What a rock star; I am so thankful and am back online!