She left a bit of her soul <br />on the council estate, <br />where graffiti was daubed <br />on a wooden gate. <br /> <br />And a bit of her soul <br />was left behind <br />at her old school desk, <br />with her injured pride. <br /> <br />And a bit at the bank, <br />her very first job, <br />where she'd fallen hard <br />for a bloke called Bob. <br /> <br />And a little bit more, <br />when her husband died <br />and the sheets got wet <br />from the tears she'd cried. <br /> <br />And a bit more still <br />as the debts piled high <br />though she hid them all <br />from her children's eyes. <br /> <br />And she feels <br />she left a part of her <br />at every port of call, <br />and she <br /> <br />mourns the loss <br />of each little bit <br />of her sad and <br />splintered soul.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-splintered-soul/
