History repeating itself, itself, itself...A Poem by BeccyI passed by a strange vexation the other day, a place with more than a dozen crossroads and couldn't decide which way to go, then I spotted a sign that said, 'Lost Victories this way.' It was weather beaten, part hidden by lichen; even so, it intrigued, so I followed. Eventually I came to an ancient potting shed, where seeds languished in dried up containers. 'Old Memory plants,' pronounced one faded label, 'forget-me-nots, another. I couldn't really tell the difference, but there was no attendant I could ask. I paused for a while, made myself a pot of tea, wondering why there was no attendant, that perhaps the water had drained due to high midsummer heat over the copper coated hills, but in my own device it was guesswork, like a blind man with no stick. So I decided to water the seeds, a pyrrhic victory of sorts. Then went home and waited; I am still waiting.
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18 Reviews Added on February 17, 2019 Last Updated on February 17, 2019 AuthorBeccyUnited KingdomAboutI'm forty four, single and have a lovely fifteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..Writing
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