1600 - Patchwork

 

The Sunday Whirl presents the following words for us to use:

flesh sand clay scarce drifted pearl page split pick veil rose gem

I opted for a medley of Senryu.

The touch of warm flesh—

A very human pleasure;

I miss that contact.

The relentless sand.

The hourglass drains

And life flows away.

Life can be mucky:

Surrounded by swamps and clay.

A trap for your feet.

True friends are quite scarce.

Promises are made and kept

By those you can trust.

How did I come here?

What was I even thinking?

In truth, I drifted.

It’s a metaphor:

Layers upon more layers—

My life as a pearl.

The pages will turn

But what we write upon them?

That is the question.

Opinions are split.

The conundrum of our time.

Add milk first? Or tea?

So much to choose from—

What is good and what is bad?

You can take your pick.

An erotic show:

The dance of the seven veils.

Or so I am told.

I planted a rose

On the day she became ill.

Just the rose remains.

Life can seem dirty

But beneath the dust and filth

The gems are still there.

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