Comments about Chantelle Clark
I pick up our old photo album of what used to be.
I turn the dusty pages full of memories.
Each day was a struggle for me.
Complaints of friends mixed with feelings, I didn't know who was me.
I come upon a memory so fine it brings tears to my eyes.
This memory, a picture of a fading sunset upon swaying trees.
The rainbow of dancing leaves frames us walking in ease.
Now as tears stream down my face I think of the battles we faced.