or I must have been.
Taken to that dark place too many children know.
yet never understanding.
Scared to face the night,
but the days held more of the same.
Waiting for Scarecrow, Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion to come.
But they never came.
No rescue, no salvation.
Didn’t they care, or had they forgotten?
So many years have passed
and I nervously laugh at the silliness of such hopes.
Yet, sometimes, in the quiet of night,
I wonder, “Maybe tomorrow?”
©September 2016, Christina Anne Hawthorne