Secret Places

by Lise Day

There are secret places in my heart
To which I dare not go
Locked rooms where memories
Lie, preserved like winter apples.
I hold the key to these dim rooms
A key I’ve tried to lose.
Sometimes, inadvertently
I find I’ve wandered there
I see those images there still
Plump and fresh, some shrivelled
Some rotten to the core.
I flee, slam shut the door
But those dusky rooms remain
Life’s disenchanted store.

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