Donna Oliver

A Solemn Reminiscence Of That Which Should Be Forgotten.

In a memory distant—faded
Bitter apprehension comes awaken
Envisioning a little girl scarred and shaken
Waiting alone for her friend.
Apart from whom a burden is carried
Apart from whom no joy is merry
Turning nothingness into scary,
Put this waiting to an end.
For even now in present mind
The clock is ticking to new times
And to new someones she may find
The past makes no amends.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Poem Edited: Saturday, January 16, 2010

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