This poem is only loosely inspired by the accompanying doodle, which show a pirate ship on the surface of the ocean, far above the ocean bed. I've chosen to consider it metaphorically. Oh yes. I've also chosen to apply an odd system of rhyming. It is deliberate not accidental.
From out of the deep
She is old now but she remembers in new ways,
So her days are filled with the jumble of the past.
Nothing lasts. Nothing is in its proper place.
She sees faces she recognizes, and smiles,
In the supermarket aisles, but no one smiles back.
He history is packed into her head like a jigsaw;
But before it's taken from the box. Just pieces,
It ceases to have a shape for her, a form.
Instead a snowstorm of randomness blinds her
And little things remind her of days long past.
As she casts her eye upon the city's sweep,
From out of the deep she catches a summer day,
And, momentarily, she plays again in sunshine,
Aged nine. The depths give back their gold.
The Script of the Naxi.
10 hours ago