Sitting at my desk on this cool crisp autumn morn
My mind begins to reflect memories of my childhood torn
To recall a tiny glimpse of a happy memory made
Surely something is there but always it would fade
In childhood play a slap to the head, a hateful look, or scream
Whippings, critical stinging berating words stole my dream
There has to be something for me to remember of the past
Something cute and funny, something good that will last
Not just of being a magnet that seemed to be a flame
Burning from all the hateful glares and accusations of blame
I want to recall something of bright happiness that soars
Instead of all the abuse that went on behind closed doors.
©2004 Carol Ann Fields