How to rest on one's laurels?
Lie down gently, carefully, not disturbing
Leaves painstakingly crafted long ago?
Stare lovingly into one's past, enamored,
About as useful as Lot's wife leaving Sodom? Or,
Drop this poem onto them as one
Eagerly pushes a new lover onto covers
Which right now don't mean a damn thing?
Poem 4/100
all the voices in my head 
I like how you took an old saying and turned it on its head. I must confess I’ve been staring into my past a lot lately, but not always lovingly.