'Fight'

A response to a writing prompt #90 from We Write Poems: Keepsakes like a breath.

'Write a poem out of nothing and everything. Keepsakes we keep of material things, reminding us of something else.'

I did not write about a keepsake, but I believe I followed the prompt, for my poem is about a material thing that triggered memories, and emotions.  

‘Fight’

The fight went spinning,

Hurling angry stones,

Releasing spiky

Poisonous arrows

Of words that linger.

Air thick with hatred,

You left, door slamming.

Gasping for some breath,

I paced up and down,

Like a wild beast, caged.

That’s when I saw them,

There, by the doorway,

Worn out, and battered,

Kicked away in haste,

Well loved, and lonely.

Something stirred in me,

I bent, picked them up,

Pressed them to my heart.

Hugging your slippers,

Prayed for your return.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur