Walking down the road that Thursday night
She asked me how I felt.
With tears in my eyes, I replied,
"You know - it's like a storm
as it builds
and builds
and just when you think that you'll break
it builds some more.
Until you can't take it anymore
it all just lets go - everything.
All the tears,
pain and anger -
it just falls
as with the fear.
It was all stored together
for so long
and now, it's finally washing away."
Contemplating on the remaining
tendrils of mist
as they swirled about me;
she told me "that would make a good poem".

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This page is maintained by Cynthia and was last modified on Friday, November 27, 1998.