The Poem

Seven years bad luck seems sixteen years too late,

Broken with the tide of my innocence washing away,

I can’t remember what the weather was like,

But I know my teardrops fell like rain.

I don’t remember exactly how bad it hurt,

But I can still feel the pain.

Waking up on the living room floor,

I was suddenly aware,

The dreaded silence of a full house.

The tables clean of the breakfast dishes,

The toys had vanished everywhere,.

I called out until a whisper was found.

My innocence pulling me away

From my Grandmother’s bedroom door,

But my Mother’s broken voice crying out

Was impossible to ignore.

The pea green room that had made me ill

Was more appealing than my Mother’s face.

Her once young and vibrant smile had faded away,

Like my Father’s heart

I soon found out

Had earlier that day.

Wrapped in an armful of hugs,

But my heart felt devoid of love.

My Father’s once stern words

I was scared to hear,

Were suddenly memories that fell from tears.

Like waking up to a bad dream,

Or watching it happen on the silver screen.

My memories wrapped in a spinning clock,

Wishing I could make it stop.

Now I sit imagining setting back the hands of time,

Back to the time when innocence was mine.