Finding Oneself Again.

When the fledgling flew the nest.
I was bereft.
Packed bags and off he went
to educate.

The house was very still,
Empty is a desolate thing.
The void within his vacant room
Rang out to me.
My little world had fallen in.

Those designated years were gone.
Time had become a sneaky thief.
My raison d’être had disappeared
I slunk into a desperate disbelief.

And there I sat disconsolate,
and staring at my knees.
So where was I, that buried self.
That quintessential me ?

Time passed…life must go on.…

Atomic chrysalis within
began to stir…and then emerge
Small wings began to form.
Fragile..quite tremulous at first,
They lifted into flight.

I heard the beat…I sang the song
A beckoning new life.
I danced the Hills of Yucatan,
And chapter three began.

Kristine Byrne 2017 Edited