Slowly it grew from but a small seed
It tangled, webbed and finally it did weave,
As a spider with a fly captured for feed.
Though I tried to stop it,
To my heart it did cleave.
Memories, nourished and fed the roots,
Upon vengeance they did feed,
Treading upon my heart heavy and aloof.
An ache, a longing, desire and yet still a need.
Days filled with anger and strife,
Memories I could not bury
Longing for the past, days gone by.
Of what seemed another life.
A daily battle I continue to fight,
An armor I must portray,
Strength for my family.
Hopes of rest for myself,
Maybe someday.

Written by:
Joyce Bowling
Copyright 08-08-2000
All rights reserved