My Diary…

Open up my diary,

And find Roses pressed dry,

A lingering fragrance,

 Caught by tears from the eye.

Postcards between pages,

Some delivered by hand,

All wrapped up in ribbon,

Or imprinted with sand.

Drawings in technicolour,

Of outside the window ledges.

The black and white memories,

Worn out with torn edges.

Scribblings of one’s life,

Of mundane daily things.

Punctuate the exotic,

Like awards and Spring Flings.

Dreams, wants and wishes,

Thoughts no one believes

Spill off pages yellowed old,

Of fallen autumn leaves.


This is my Diary,

Archives of one sometimes insane.

That mark the rare sane occasions,

With somewhat disdain.


I like being different.


2 Responses to “My Diary…”

  1. U too =)

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