Of footsteps travelling
Down white antiseptic
Scented hall ways,
And the deafening
Drone in my head
Of an urgent need to flee.
I, a prisoner, of course
Sat faithfully at the shrine
Of the skeleton ghost
Of the person I was
Trying to force myself to be.
At the time I did not know
Any other way.
Put it aside and put it away.
Your youth has become a page
In a scrapbook of memories.
This is the here and now.
No longer imagine yourself
As that clever girl with
The secrets in her eyes.
Those days have passed,
As time's steady current
Pulls us along to the future.
You have to learn new ways
To weave the sunlight in your hair.
Find new hiding places for the
Secrets you kept in your eyes,
But it's not the end, my friend.
This is a new chapter of life.
(4/9/2010)
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