Puzzle piece

I think of nomads
My fingers trace the walls unfamiliar
Paper scrunched in boxes that held the
‘things’ that now have found a home

Sunlight sits, waiting for curtains
to be drawn, to drop upon the floors
Yet grey clouds in the distance loom
reminding me that all is not perfect

The obscure piece that’s left
wondering if it will be slotted
to make the puzzle whole
Strange territory where thoughts spin
from calm to confusion

Past lives consume, with
empty boxes cast aside
paper waiting to wrap those
‘things’ again, to find a new home

A drifter, vagabond
Sauntering, singular but not
The sun streams, the clouds hover
the only sound I hear, the dialogue
on Bridges of Madison County

Copyright JMTacken 21.6.2014

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30 thoughts on “Puzzle piece

  1. Bridges of Madison County was a sweet movie to be sure. I like the mysteriousness of your poetry. ❤

  2. you paint such a picture with your words, jen, of dark and light and wonder and flight. i love bridges too, and like you, tend to watch it during emotional patches of my life. i always hope for a different ending, i want her to jump out of the truck and go to him.

    • Thank you so much lovely Beth, I wrote as I walked around the house now of Mr.S. I saw Meryl’s hand on that handle yet again, wanting to escape, knowing she wouldn’t. This then came. It breaks me every time, perhaps not the best to have watched today. xxx

  3. ah but her story impacted the lives of those that were struggling, so perhaps it will help you gain some direction as well…and not feel so much as a vagabond nomad…even then though they know to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving….

  4. I’m catching up here, Jen. A moving write but not so sure I like where you’re at. Remember I’m here if you need an ear. Disorientated is a difficult place to be. Hugs, my friend.x

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