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