I find myself on a winding trail
with passing thoughts of years past
and where I was at that point in time.

It's there I realize that, like a tattoo,
trauma never really leaves you. I
seem to remember the snap of my
knee, the despair of lost friends but
then I see the sun.

I see its shine on the snow...rays
glazing themselves over a season
come and gone. Another quarter
year past, but I see more change than
that of the seasons.

Something, indeed, has changed in
me.