The Past Keeps Creeping, Creeping
The past comes in a nightmare dream,
pain I've worked so hard to forget;
to hold back sadness and regret,
I see the place where I grew up.
And all the graves in rows closeup,
my home by a rippling stream;
where in my lone bed I was weeping,
listening to a train whistle.
The need to leave was abyssal,
holding back tears I walked away;
into the wild world to stray,
but the past keeps creeping, creeping.
____________________________
May 9, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/The Past Keeps Creeping, Creeping
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1223-635-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Strand Select F Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment