Reviving My Age Poem by Amy Marie

A familiar photograph lies
Imprinted on the shovel I possess: an old friend.
Destiny and Lovesick love to
Marvelously marvel at its stiffness.

By way of Freedom's shovel
The sunlight smiles back
At itself and receives itself.

The silver stone grave does the same.
Its name calls mine
Like my bedroom: Age's bedroom

As well.
She inhabits the buried wooden
Bed like she once inhabited

My blanketed one.
An old friend of mine.
Too well thought about.

I unburden her wooden bed:
Removing a load from
Around it.
Age rises and twinkles her smile.