Introversion

Two short poems:

I.

I am glad

that there are

things that money

cannot buy;

what if we

could buy memories?

some of us

wouldn’t have many;

not the ones

that would last anyway!

II.

I try to imagine you away

but you are too real

so there you stay;

it is awfully nice

in my rabbit hole anyway.

©Aaysid

“The only problem with seeing people you know is that they know you.”
Brent Runyon, The Burn Journals

Image by WikiImages from Pixabay

Published by Aaysid

I am a science person, at least that is what I do for a living, but a good part of my heart has always found a home in the written word. That could explain why it stays quite stormy in my head. There is chaos and a total lack of organisation. It makes sticking to any one thing no less than a challenge. I sometimes fish out random bits and pieces from that outrageous mess and try to give them words. Boy, that is erratic!

life, people, Poems, poetry

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22 thoughts on “Introversion”

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  3. That is an interesting thought! Buying memories. Like on the market. What memory will I get today? The one in the apple orchard, autumn, the late sun paints the fruit in a yet unseen warmth, when I kiss your face your eyes become juice? Or: I hear your laughter in the other room, your book, the movie you are watching, mayby just a glimpse of a childhood moment, playing in the park, a duck calls for her chicks? Would that be possible? And what would be the cost?

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