White and Trite

This was a day of melting snow,

Pine trees struggling to stand upright,

Untangle themselves from the grip of winter.

This was a day I opened boxes,

Rescuing memories from hibernation

Light breathing life into them again.

They’d lain asleep in the dark for so long!

This was a day I flopped like a fish

From present to future,

Then back to the past.

Never quite landing, but feeling the hook

Pulling me this was and that.

This was a day I felt like King Midas

My touch wasn’t golden.

It was tainted by triteness.

This was a day I had lots of ideas

But no inspiration.

I fiddled with pieces.

But nothing quite fit.