My Cupboard
Behind the Welsh Dresser,
fine china,
dinner plates
and an old vase
is a cupboard.
It is a place I store
dark secrets,
shame,
hidden love
and
old memories.
Its walls are shelved
where books
turn towards me
so as to hide their titles.
My jewels
are housed in
cardboard boxes
so as to hide
their worth.
and old photo's,
in black and white
hold my
memories
The cupboard door
is white
and the door
has panels.
You can see the
grain of the wood
through the paint
and even though
I paint it
every year,
the grain
shows through.
I've tried to reveal,
to show
and tell
my secrets,
those unmasked
truths
but somehow
I never can.
I will have to
keep the key
and even when I die
[...] Read more
poem by Ruth Walters
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