What Lurks Within

Past lurks in picture, this I know, A presence from the long ago. Her life was hard and mean and cruel. She cleaned without a modern tool. Here she was shunned, demeaned, bereft. Past would not follow when she left, And so it lurks, just out of range, Hoping somehow a past can change. Glad to have left her past behind, She has moved on, new life to find. She prays wayfarers will beware Of past that proved to be a snare, And run from horror in that room Or it could be a burial tomb.