A Little Girl Cries Poem by CHARMAINE SIMPSON

A little girl cries as she sits alone on the edge of her bed,
So perfectly made in her room so neat and tidy,
The one thing that has changed in this sad story,
Is that the little girl has now grown into a woman,
And this woman is me.

I watch each tear fall as it runs down my cheek and drips,
In slow motion - splashing like raindrops into my lap.
My thoughts wander - I feel numb all over,
Except of course for the heavy ache in my heart,
That seems to have found a permanent place to dwell.

My eyes begin to view all that surrounds me,
As I let them rest on each priceless treasure,
That I have so carefully placed with love.
Each holds a moment – a story - within my memory.
Each one more than words or tears could ever express.

This entire overwhelming sensation returns in my mind,
To the little girl I lost inside,
I begin to see and feel a time not unlike the present.
I have the same ache in my heart so full of emptiness.

The stream of tears falling from my eyes,
Around me I see within my memory my room as a child,
Each thing in its place so precisely, I see it all so clearly.
Who would of ever believed that material objects
Have the power within their story to hurt so deeply.


2nd November 2005