The original post by Natalie the Singingfool can be found at Shovel
He dug himself a hole in the ground
a place to burrow dreams for
safekeeping while he tended to
responsibilities
Locked them
tightly in a brass tin and kept the key
hidden from sight
as dreams belong to
youth and freedom in an age before
lost chances and untraveled roads
laid the tin down and shoveled
layers of dark earth, blanketing
wishes
forgotten ambition.
Neglecting the hole in the ground
trudging in and out of the room that
represented the key kept
stowed away like buried treasure
work clasps wrists together in
irons of promises and paychecks
a black and white way for which he
did not remember asking
as
years accumulated in place of
life
until he remembered the
shovel behind the garage ‘neath
glass marked
in case of
emergency
- – -
This week’s Speakeasy prompt must refer to the photo below and begin with the phrase, “He dug himself a hole in the ground.”
Holy crap, I wrote a poem. Someone please resuscitate me.
