Inner Woman Volume 2
54 February

When I miss so many

and I wish I could dress

time like a sundae with

a cherry on top

February, cursedly long

as I wait for the sun

to bring my thoughts

from the brink of extinction

The smoky grey of early dusk

is lifting but still I am shadowed

with the lack of freedom

of cold

of memories I cannot push into

the cupboards of my mind.

Icy umbrae dig into my soul

questioning

undermining

commiserating with doubt

And on the shelf,

proudly displayed

the blue ribbons

the trophies

medals

of a life so foreign now

I wonder if the triumph of my

glory years truly belong to me

Am I the winner the display proclaims?

Or merely the dreamer who never vied?

In short, am I the impostor from another life?