Je Ne Sais Quoi

jenesaisquoi

The essence of Christmas past teases

like that spice in a stew you can’t name.

Eyes closed to deaden senses,

deep breath for recognition…

but it is over-seasoned now.

Those fiery touches,

miscalculated measures —

I am
reduced and rendered bitter.

Words: ©2015, Jen Payne. Image: The Window of the Poet, Pyotr Konchalovsky, 1935

1 Response

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.