Carrie Contemplates The Curtains

Carrie Gray gazed at the gauzy
curtains billowing ghostly
in the summer’s dwindling breeze.

How like me you are,
she thought: suspended there,
anchored only by a nail or two,
fluttering and flouncing so foolish.

Like loosely woven fabric,
I too sift out the dust
and dampness of existence,
capturing the fine particles
of tribulation and jubilation
in the overlapping threads
of thought and of destiny.

From a distance,
I appear fresh-laundered
and crisp. But look closely
and you’ll see the grime of the struggle,
flecks of disappointment and the remnants
of youthful dreams
lodged there in the wrinkles and the folds.