The Patterned Plate

In most homes it conjures up good times, spent over a meal.image

But this plate is different as to what
I would feel

Lost in the pattern I rode out my time
carefully staring memorizing every line.

Outside of this process sorrow is spilled and than anger and madness came with the deal.

So sad, since the food offering usually was great, the Cook’s good meaning intention did come hooked with a bait.

And I swallowed each morsel, and I cleaned my plate and I loved and I cared not knowing my fate.
Days and than months turned into years
But alas I didn’t help the one that I feared.

She’s gone now but not the fear she instilled, that goes on and on year after year, and it wasn’t till recently it came clear to my mind

When again this plate came down like a sign,
at an unknowing minute and not in my home it reminded me, that I was alone. I couldn’t eat off it I put it away and shuddered as it led me to think of those days.
A week since that date of that memory filled plate
and I’m still sitting here just lying awake.

She said she would haunt me and I fear it is so , I try hard to let those memories go. I try and conjure up good times, to replace the bad but that just render’s me, so often so sad.
So it’s Time to turn off this writers mind and look for the rest my body must find.
By Meredith J Weir
All rights reserved

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