Too much time on hand

Quiet

With my head in the sand

And now

I fidget with the task

Of doing something with myself

I wander into the hall

Where my soul lies trapped

Between a doorway and a wall

Reluctant

I press my palm to cold steel

I push on

I can feel

The hinges protest

With a squeak

Long and shrill

I speak

But to myself

Crack open

The swinging door to my heart

Just a hair’s breadth

I’m assured

There’s nothing in there but us chickens

My eyes adjust to the darkness

Revealing

Dusty promises

Stacked neatly on a shelf

Once all shiny and new

I do a mental inventory

Of what I owe you

With a sigh

Stifled air fills my lungs

And through pursed lips

I exhale the barren air I took in

Across the surface

Of  these items

And watch in amusement

As breath joins in dance with a sunbeam

That just snuck in somewhere

All golden against the darkness

And tiny unsettled particles

Disturbed

Now freed

From dimming the beauty

Of what was once treasured

Surprise

To come alight on a tailwind

Half forgotten intentions

Half remembered convictions

Now checked like an inventory

Of scorned goods that never sell

Visible to the naked eye

Straining hard to see the

Impossible

And the miniscule

Seek and you will find

Proof for doubts

That play your mind

And that is where it pays

To be careful

Of what you wish for

But we all love a bargain, now, don’t we?