Poem: Rumaging

Finding the essence and history that makes a poem already written somewhere in our minds.


Thoughts unspooled and words as yet unwritten,
rumaging in closets, some unopened fifty years,
pulling down memories, like old clothes
Wondering if they’ll go together, fabrics complimentary
or better thrown out, dragged into the street

Several hats I wore no longer fit this head,
the scuffed and well-worn boots now pinch my toes
Yet scarves of remembrance, still warm to touch,
a soft shirt also fits, jeans comfortable with age
Some of it may enhance my current fashion

Perhaps an outfit here, something worth the time
of grabbing, pulling off hangers, some dropped,
others brushed off, held up against the light of now
Knowing if the combination doesn’t work,
at least there’s warmth, a covering of nakedness
Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection


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