Trauma
Shut away from a world rage
Creates a place on your own stage
Where light is turned down dim
Breakfast cooks on a recent whim
There is no more incessant pain
As the joy brings sleep with simple rain
There won't be any touch or scratch
No hurt with mother's words that match
Careless children in a weakened state
As beans and salad flee the plate
Be alert to this simple sign
The lines that fall to page with rhyme
Behind them is a needed time
For rest and peace this home is thine
Barry G. Wick
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