Puzzle Me This

When you start looking at the pieces,

But the puzzle won't come together.

Keep maneuvering toward the center.

Migrate to the core of the image.

Remember what is saved there.

Printed long ago.

And lost amongst the shelves,

Of the local thrift shop.

Are there pieces missing?

Do all of them belong here?

Will the satisfaction fade to black,

When every piece is set?

There is anxiety on the table.

Staring me down in this dual.

Soon the picture fades.

The shapes appear more prominently.

And each unique curve or prong,

Finds it's home.

Until at last my eyes and arms,

Come to a rest.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

And admire my work.

Before tearing it apart,

And returning it to the box,

From whence it came.

Like a game of Jumanji.

Oh the day's of glue and frames.

To hang and hold each one dear

To remember each puzzle that,

I overcame,

Conquered,

Completed.

I've lost my focus,

My eternal puzzles gone.

But I have the page,

The pen,

The words,

And you...the reader.