BOUNCING BACK

Peter Woodgate

“Sit down,” he said,

then beckoned me towards a chair

and read

the notes arranged across his desk,

my fate, in words, inscribed upon

the death of yet another tree.

 

I’d guessed the outcome,

funny we all fear the worst

yet that word still made me choke,

two syllables, it was no joke,

he confirmed that it was “C”.

 

But…..that preposition gave me hope,

I’d listened to the words, of course,

not fully grasping every one

like sand between my fingers.

 

One word stood out,

a beacon shining through the dark,

sheltering within my head,

held fast, my thoughts,

remaining still, it lingers.

 

“Cure,” a simple word,

a word I want to shout out loud

whilst by myself or in a crowd.

A future I once thought was black,

is bright, and I am bouncing back.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate