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
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 4:52 AM UTC
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
