Moon Willows Tantrums

Neverbook

One boring evening with,

one short attention span,

What to do?

“Well do something.” I say

outloud to myself.

I open my drawer

wonder why did I do that first

I search through,

though not just my drawer’

my junk,

my treasures,

my memories.

I stumble upon my old folders,

garbage.

Yet important,

important garbage.

Nice names.

I continue my search

Then I find what my heart is searching for,

my journal.

Is that me telling myself something?

But, my heart hasn’t settled fully.

I flip through and read

my goodness, I look pathetic.

Old dreams never remembered

love letters never sent

angry tantrums never shared

secrets never told

This really should be called

a Neverbook,

nice name