I sat today midst the happy smiles

of a children’s song, and for just a while

I was happy too, for what else should come

from a happy day and a happy song.

 

But, it came again just like every June,

when I feel the pain of an open wound

that on every other day I keep

hidden far from view, buried oh so deep.

 

But I guess that’s why they made the day,

so that folks like me can’t just walk away

from the hidden chambers, vaults and tombs

where ghosts like this are left to loom.

 

Waiting for the chance to emerge again,

on that day in June, on the one day when

I can only sit choking back the tears,

while the children sing… and the ghosts appear.