Poor Pickled Me


Poor Pickled Me

The lid’s ajar
and happily I climbed inside
the ways things are,
I only went to hide.

Now it’s too late
I stayed too long and can’t get out.
I sealed my fate
because my life was filled with doubt.

This briny sea
is where I watch the world go by
poor pickled me
it really does no good to cry.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Linked with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.


19 thoughts on “Poor Pickled Me

    1. Wow! I am happy to accept and left a comment on your wonderful blog. I’m out of town and posted a new poem today so I just saw your comment. Thanks so much I need all the help I can get bringing people to my work. Hugs!


    1. Thanks for your comment for some reason it went into spam. Probably the link did it. Glad you liked it! If you write poetry join my group on Facebook and write with me every week on Muse Monday.


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