on the Shelf

Toddler's Ball
So where does it go 

when it is gone from here, 
when there's a hole 
in place of that-which-was? 

It's said that a baby cannot fathom 
what's gone around a corner 
or under a blanket. 
So does the ball go missing, 

a forever loss, 
a toddler bereft? 

And what about the day,
the mist, 
the cadaver deep? 

What about a love that, 
like energy, 
cannot be destroyed, 

only transmuted, 
and us left looking at the blankets, 
wondering where it's gone. 
 

                                                      ©2019 Annette Meserve

Poetry 

An evening of Myth and Poetry

life at the far end, blog, poetry, book, published

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annette meserve writing storyteller poet author fiction flash short stories novels
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February 1, 2017  in Trinidad, CO

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