• My personal stage
    She was certain
    Today would not be
    My closing curtain
    My fear
    Before long
    She would see
    She is wrong
    Listen to the crowd
    Standing proud
    One voice
    Above all others
    My mother’s
    Screaming and
    Shouting
    Jumping
    Twisting
    Turning
    Crashing and
    Burning
    Starting to
    Fall
    Losing it all
    Hearing a sound
    Banging her fist
    On the ground
    Sighing
    Crying
    Struggling to stop the tears
    Adding to
    Failures from
    Past years
    My defeat
    Battle ended
    Dignity
    Pride
    Undefended
    My perseverance
    Wasted
    Victory
    Never tasted
    So as I sit here in my solitary gloom
    Coach says “grab a broom”