
Where we’re place
may yield happiness
or sorrow
True happiness
must be wild and untamed
overgrown
tendrils sprouting
through the broken windowpanes
The childhood bedroom
where you hid
under thin blankets
coerced you
only to a trail
of grief
Again led
to the dying
of summer
What was allowed
as transparent as glass
paramount
on the path before you
Write the darkness
and be still
The scars will heal
Copyright (C) 2020 Penny Wilson
Image by Peter H from Pixabay
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