by Bridget Webber

Created on: April 10, 2009   Last Updated: April 25, 2009

My past crunches underfoot

as debris laid asunder,

or it piles before me

a temporary blunder,

an obstacle I get round

by shutting eyelids tight,

relying on rose tinted sight,

and pushing closed the door

that leads back down the tunnel

to my painful memory store.

I smile with confidence and calm

not wanting to cause alarm

when on occasion, although locked fast

from underneath blows an icy blast

whipping round my new life

howling and threatening to stay

as I try hard to hold the ghosts at bay.

So if you see me shiver,

my body all aquiver,

have no concern for what you see

it's just my past catching up with me.

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