Silence or screams, <br />no in-between... <br />a hard place to grow, <br />with nothing to know <br />but rippling confusion <br /> <br />and the occasional contusion - <br />mostly around the heart. <br />There wasn't a part <br />of the girl's little life <br />that wasn't derived <br /> <br />from a woman and a man <br />who could not command <br />a bit of love or respect <br />from each other. They left <br />their offspring to find <br /> <br />a pilfered mine <br />of lazy regret - misshapen <br />truths, she sharply inhaled them. <br />Girls grow into women <br />with hopes well-limned <br /> <br />despite sorry upbringings, <br />never once feeling <br />a hand print of love. <br />One day a man stood above <br />her and said that he would <br /> <br />touch her in love but he could <br />not for he was diminished too <br />by his own demons, not a few... <br />So, her life leans with the wind <br />with yet a form of hope, much thinned. <br /> <br /> <br />(3.26.06 - - For you, Little Spirit...)<br /><br />Esther Leclerc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/never-once/
