Slow But Steady Wins The Race

I realize I may never fully recover

From his fake concern. 

I was too slow for Narcissus, the sociopath. 

Fourteen years on the other side of 

black eyes and tear-stained torment.  

I am quick to snap. 

My biggest fear is that he won.

That I was lucky.  If given the chance, 

I am doomed to repeat the cycle. 

My instinct still screams at the review.

My writer’s voice treks down a crowded path. 

On a mission to engage my readers 

to keep following my posts and commenting.

Meanwhile, the wheel of time zooms by.

But unlike the swift white hare, 

Speed is not my means of survival. 

I cross the road with cautious respect,

And rubberneck the gawkers, 

Less wary now, on the journey back 

to peace and happiness,  which

Compels me to regurgitate on this

And perhaps some duckweed. 

As I bask beneath the sun,

Contemplating my umbilicus

Atop a moss-covered log

In the bog.

…

Cornelia DeDona 12-16-25