A Wednesday in December
I am Wednesday’s woeful child-
born broken and needing the stitches.

Perfect, but already flawed.
Doctors and surgeons, fancy machines, and tools

perfectly fixed me back together again. Emotionally Scarred.
Growing up with despair. Feeling imperfect.

Sensitive soul. Fragile mind-ADHD and anxiety.
Lacking confidence in myself. Scared.

Pieces of me, stitched carefully together-
by the silvery saline tear trails of

My nurturing parents’ weeping eyes. Glue-
thick with unconditional love. Acceptance.

I am December’s baby. In winter’s pieces-
like snowflakes white and cold. But full

of spring’s promise. A bud of
ambition to be something. To be someone.

To be someone more than a moment.
Someone remembered. Unforgotten.

© 2010 Lyndsey Warren