Look at me, look at the state of me.
Too long I’ve left the nearly new, kitten heeled shoes, boxed out of sight.
The sleeveless, summer shift, label attached says too tight.
Confined, coloured Contact lenses out of date, out of favour.
Lemon and ginger green tea unsupped, left for someone else to savour.
Gym membership paid, card mislaid, my abs forgotten how to crunch.
Bike languishing with sooty cobwebs, Spiders putting all their legs to good use.
Redundant eye shadow, lipstick and mascara keep each other company in a different, dark drawer.
Jewelry, forgotten, unappreciated for months waiting for admiring glances when worn on safer days.
Soft, silk scarves stay folded away, replaced by masks that filter, stifle, suffocate.
Don’t look at me. Please, don’t look at me.
Gail Henderson arrived in Angus, from Oxford in 2006. From Doncaster, South Yorkshire originally she still considers herself a Yorkshire Lass. After writing poetry for many years, often lighthearted with a touch of humour, three years ago she joined a creative writing class and now writes short stories as well as poetry of a more serious nature. During lockdown of 2021 she discovered an online writing group, The Procrastinators, the group has helped her explore different genres and given her the opportunity of sharing her work.
Selected by the editor as a featured submission, December 2022
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