I carry…

This came from my writing workshop last night

I carry my wallet, new, still smelling of fresh leather

Inside it carries my money, crumpled and torn, pulling faces at each other

Cards, lots of cards, nearly enough for a pack

I carry coins, £1’s and 50p’s

Some are shiny and new, others dull with age

Some are heavy and strong, others strangely light and dainty…

I carry three stones, all blue speckled with gold

Two look like a mathematical triangle, ready for their angles to be calculated

The other is dull and square and sits there

Watching, listening, smelling, taking it all in…

I carry a vest on my back, unwashed for weeks

Smelling of me in various stages of life

It fits perfectly, moulded to the shape of my sweaty body

I carry images in my mind, from places I’ve been too, people I’ve seen

Ready to be recollected to test how accurate my memory is…

Smells carry up my nose and enter my mind

So that I close my eyes and imagine I’m somewhere, anywhere but here

The sound of birds vibrates in my ear

A sound I have carried from childhood and will carry till the day I die…

I kneel and touch the ground, it is cold and hard

Like someone I knew a long time ago…

But I don’t carry you anymore like I use to

A stone weight around my neck, dragging me to the floor

Nor do I carry the rain that pours from my eyes

Drowning out my memories of you…forever!

I don’t carry a penknife, my heart was hollowed out years ago…

My mind, still sharp from the memories…

I don’t carry pictures of anyone, all my pictures are stored deep in mymind

Nor do I have a map, I’ve walked these moors many times before

And they know me well now and show me the way home

I don’t carry a book with words and pictures in of places I’ll never see…

I don’t carry a watch, I watch time past by as it soars down the moors from on high

Flowing into the swiftly moving stream, getting its breath back

Before it starts again, taking me on its currents

To wherever it desires…