1.8 years

Over two years ago,
on a day in November,
she tripped and fell
straight into December.

Christmas did well,
bringing things that she wanted,
but New Year's brought trouble
and for solace she hunted.

She searched through the rubble
to find a safe haven.
She found it in words
and an artistic craving.

Jealous of birds
she raced through a year,
and then her anniversary
was almost too near.

Suddenly she was hungry
for more than a meal
and September brought something
with a lip-locked appeal.

Heartbroken, she'd sing
a song of the truth
and live out two years
as a troubled youth.

And now one hears
from her words hidden well,
that this child has a story
to sing, cry, and sell.

She'd given her glory,
stood tall like a martyr,
pushed back her shoulders,
and marched that much harder

To move the big boulders
blocking her every step.
Now with such freedom,
She doesn't struggle to forget.