On the shelf

 

The stale scent

of long forgotten spice,

a microwaveable pouch of rice,

and me.

Up on the shelf,

looking out longingly,

wondering if anyone

even knows I'm here.

Surrounded by

out of date confectionary,

that isn't so sweet anymore.

 

I spy faces peering this way,

with glazed over eyes.

I sit idly waiting,

trying not to cry

as they walk right past

and pick up a nice juicy pie.

I sit surrounded by

the dusty rings

of long forgotten

breakages.

Maybe my price is too high.

 

I see them excitedly

looking through the fridges,

digging out the sweet treats

and tasty dishes,

but here upon this shelf,

no one ever reaches.

Maybe I'm placed too high,

if I was on a lower shelf

would they still wander by?

I sigh, and hear the doorbell reply

as you walk in, smile, and say hi.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"

100+ all new poems not shared here before.

https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle