This woman walks around
in the shadow of a child.
And she scrambles to hold on
to the oats no longer wild.
There were once so many dreams;
ran a time or two in clover.
She got caught up in the dance
till the memories took over.
Now the child that follows her
is relentless in her pain.
And she needs to be wrapped up;
rocked to sleep time and again.
So this woman walks the world
hoping for a saving grace.
Listening for those little footsteps;
looking for that tender face.
And her heart aches to remember
what her mind no longer does.
That the grief she calls her shadow
is the child that she once was.
Todays best new poem was written by Deb Wilson.