Silently I creep

Down the crowded corridors of my mind,

Tentatively toying with the doorknobs

of rooms containing suppressed memories.


I hear them

Like an overbooked hotel, whispering

Eager to crowd the hallways

In hopes of recognition and validation.


Restlessly I slumber

Unwilling to commit, I strain to decipher

Reluctant to open a door recalling

Malaise, despair or buried pain


The alarm sounds

Silently I face the clock, the murmurs fade

I throw back the covers,

 Relieved that choice is gone.


Art: Anthony Gromley