Happy Place
Trauma has wrapped me in its slimy tentacles
Tightening, till my depression becomes clinical
Man with yellow pad listens obligingly
Then into my happy place he is guiding me
I imagine my beautiful tropical island home
All is serene and I am finally alone
Turquoise waters pet the shores sand
Oh so ready to rest from life in this land
With long hypnotic strokes, newness is washed away
Carried into the Icy depths of ancient days
I sit, contented for once, on the hot white grains
Coconut in hand yet taste of... oatmeal remains
I cannot tell the time, nor anything truly measure
In my island retreat, alone, I will stay forever.
*the nurse continues spooning oatmeal into the patients open maw
Wiping his chin after each bite and closing his jaws.
Copyright © Crystol Woods | Year Posted 2024
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