i.

It’s the late 1990′s and you’re a kid

You’re skipping down the path in the garden called memory lane

Holding your mother’s hand

Suddenly you trip and fall

You see the lacerations across your knee that sting for days when you try to shower

For the path in the garden of memory lane has tripped you over by your nimble child legs

Wounding you temporarily

ii.

It’s the present day and you’re a grown woman

You’re walking down the rocky road  called adulthood, wringing your own hands together in frustration

Your husband was found dead in a crashed car with another woman

Drunk driving and infidelity do not mix

You don’t see lacerations anywhere

Nor feel the ache of wounds that sting for days when you try to shower

For the rocky road whose name is adulthood has tripped you over by your last legs

Wounding your heart instead

For life