Left Over

I found a piece of mom's pie,
frozen since Christmas.

I observed it as a holy relic,
ashamed by the disregard
with which I had slipped it
into a ziplock bag.

I must have tipped the door
closed with my toes
and set about my lists as if
there would always be more.

How quickly I had forgotten it,
made flat in the weight
of these days.

I salvaged the remains
with a sterling fork
but the butterscotch
tasted like peas.

– Teresa Kiplinger

 See how I incorporate my poetry into my jewelry work here.


  • Tracey

    This hits me right in the gut.

  • Joan Wescott

    Reading this introspective poem early this morning when all is calm and quiet gives me a glimpse inside your head and where you are at when designing your beautiful pieces.

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