Torn Poem by Fiona Burgess

Falling stars these memories from torn histories
Buffeted by the winds of time
Plummeting from the archives of the mind
Chased by music and out into the night
On the backs of childhood demons
They ride, they ride.
In gossamer webs glowing coldly
The laughter and tears are captured
To be devoured by glass spiders.
Shadows stutter and sway
Within the confines of this candle flame
Glowing dimly in the dead of night
These murmuring voices of years gone by
Punctuated by giggles and sighs
Drowned in endless glasses of whiskey
What is there left for tomorrow
If we cannot escape the ghosts of the past?
How can we escape the past
If we cannot live for today?