There are no indigenous pines.
Those planted here for harvest
From which fittings are designed
Have their grain swell in summer blast
And so the drawers get stuck fast.

I am unsure of the material from whence
The receptacles in my head are made.
Surely alien in design, and hence
These drawers firmly fixed remain
And do not open ‘gainst any strain.

This very day as I in public spoke —
An amusing tale I thought I’d share —
I lost the very punchline of the joke
Pulling handles, I cast about, but
The drawers of my mind were firmly shut.

O, you silly storage repository!
You are full of knowledge untold
Gathered over a lifetime’s story
From Kindergarten to matric,
From Grandpa’s knee to girlish cliques.

Unstick, you drawers; unlock, you door,
Come, unfasten, loosen, free!
I want full access to my files once more.
You will not budge, you’re glued in place.
Therefore, now I’ll use my mind’s bookcase.

 

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Writing 201: Poetry
Assignment — Day 8:

Prompt: Drawer
Form: Ode
Device: Apostrophe

Personal note: What can I say?  The older I get, the harder it is to open those drawers.

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