Hidden in the creases of his mind
are words, each word a key,
key to a dusty trunk
of treasures, some long ignored
until a recollection, clear, persistent,
an electronic ray,
pops the lid wide open
or until
curious fingers prise,
eyes wide, amazed.
Open on the creases of his face
are thoughts, each thought a rail
rail to a distant land
of pleasures, some long suppressed
until an evocation, small, relentless,
a radar signal,
rouses dormant pain
and becomes
paintbrush on the face,
eyes creased, amazed.
LRH
12.14.07
Linda Hepner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/creases-of-his-mind/
