I disagree, the running on of the lines builds tension and anticipation of the coming event. If there were stanza breaks the reader would take a breath instead of rushing on to the next alliteration. I do agree with giving "no lingering goodbyes" its own line however. More defined that way.

Perhaps work more with the illusion of things and not spend so much time worrying about whether it rhymes.

Congratulations to the winner!

Too torn to vote... sigh... can I vote for everybody? I am pretty sure my mutiple personality disorder counts as one vote for everyone ?

Didn't anyone ever tell you about the punctuation and spelling pixies? They sneak in those pesky semicolons and other nifty lil spelling tweaks when no one is looking.

Just lovely, the words and image go so well together. Tears from heaven, tears from man. (The flower is indeed an azalea.)

In the kettle are several eggs boiling along with a dozen potatoes, still with their skins on. In the pan before me sizzling a fryer freshly dipped in batter.. There is something about preparing food for a picnic, something that allows the mind to wander over other happy occassions. As I pull the potatoes now softened from the boiling water and begin to loosen their jackets, my mind wanders to a day in late spring when my Mom taught me how to make potato salad for the first time. I remember how precise and beautiful her salad looked, and how scrumptious it always tasted. Over the years I have semi-perfected her manner of "oh, that looks about right" cooking, but her potato salad I have never yet rivaled. Already on the sideboard are some chopped up onion, both red and white, and a cup full of diced pickles both sweet and pepper dill, which will be added along with just a dash of the dill pickle brine into the salad dressing. Cubing already boiled potatos is an interesting chore as they are floury and already breaking apart. I absolutely despise boiled eggs! The nasty things. They roll around and slide out of your fingers at the least provocation. Trying to make them even is just not going to happen for me. I finally get some chopped up into bits instead of just mashed. At long last, while the chicken finishes its frying in the deep pot of smoking oil, I am ready to assemble my potato salad. Into the bowl go the 12 potatos, 5 boiled eggs, the onion and pickle bits. This is the easy part! Then to mix the dressing! A bit of prepared mustard, hmmm is that a 'Moms' about right? No? Perhaps a bit more. Now for the mayonnaise, One, two three scoops, mix, hmmmm.. the color is not quite what it should be, another scoop of mayo. Now it is too light so let's add a bit more mustard. Stir... pretty close. A taste test perhaps? Yeah! That is not too bad, now for a bit of pickle brine and some salt and pepper. AAAAAAAAAAAAAgh! There is black smoke erupting from my deep fryer! The chicken is ruined!!! Tears flood my eyes as I watch all mornings work go up in smoke. As I run for the fire extinguisher, (some philosopher once said that dinner is finished when the smoke alarm goes off..ohh yeah .. that was my mother :S) I knock the big glass mixing bowl with all the potato salad fixings onto the floor! Time for one frantic phone call! 'Hello Crescent? I will be a bit late to the picnic, I have to stop at KFC on the way.'

At thirteen years of age I walked the Bright Angel Trail at the Grand Canyon. A beautiful wooded vista and nice views of the canyon in the distance. Once we arrived at the canyons edge, however, the beauty became overwhelming. I wanted more than anything in the world to ride that little grey donkey down to the bottom of the canyon. What a great excursion right? As I peered over the edge of the canyon and into that mile plus drop, vertigo took over, then hysterical giggles and clutching at my mothers coat. There was no way I was going to be able to sit on a donkey and ride a narrow path with that sheer drop on one side and straight-up cliff on the other. I tried to get calmed down enough to make the trip, but each time I peered over the edge and saw the Colorado River at the bottom my mind did some sort of reverse telescope trip and made it look even deeper; perhaps even an eternal drop to the bottom. So, while I can say that the Grand Canyon is a wondrous and beautiful sight, I cannot speak from experience on the true magnitude of the thing. Only a distorted vision of an everlasting fall to the bottom. So, this would not be a good time to tell Shoshanna about my daughter's pets the spiders? Nor about the lady in whose hairline an eggsac was laid? Things that go buzz and sting... now those send me into screaming fits of heebie-geebies!

Ok, made some punctuation changes, and removed L13 as I could find no real way to tie it with any other line and of course the mind went numb when trying to think of a line to tie it to. I think it reads a bit more easily now. Again, thanks to everyone who posted a comment and/or suggestion. It truly helps to have someone outside of the writing to proof it and offer suggestions as I know that I become to close to what I have written and cannot see the errors. ~~ Depression burns like acid rain dripping..... dripping.... dripping off the tar paper roof to gather in oily puddles in hollows worn by the tired steps of generations of those who passed her by time and again. A door hangs askew from its rusted hinges. Broken windows stare out blindly into darkness punctuated with sirens and flashing light. Bare walls, stained from too many years of neglect tell tales unheard by human ears, of lives lived, loves lost and of birth and death. Will no one recognize the beauty she once was? Perhaps some society, historical or otherwise, will one day restore the piteous empty shell, or some distant future wrecking ball remove the final remnants of her presence, to make room for condos for those who are worthy.

I also just realized a spelling error, in line 7 eternally should have read.. and now reads, eternal. Thanks very much for all the comments! Dissonance; your words mean nothing, only noises that you make in vain attempt to placate and mislead. Resonance; the echo seemingly eternal along the void where once dwelt happiness and love. Permanence; that thing you promised but could/would not deliver i have found within myself. Distance; all that remains between me and thee, after everything has been said and done. I believe that I am pleased with this one now!

The no longer innocent line refers to the hatred that the child feels toward the abuser. That is the 'sin that has no name'. The love/hate thing that goes on in the childs mind. Only five more years Shanna and he will remember how much you mean to him. (not that he has truly forgotten) About the time they move out and begin thier own lives they realize that mum wasn't so bad after all. I am a lucky mom, my 16 year old still wants me to kiss her goodnight.. and even walks with me in public.

Nor do I feel that all men should apologize and make reparation for the actions of the few. I do not want pity, just understanding... Thanks dialyn for your kind words.

Whoa babies, I LOVE men, don't get me wrong.. is just an interpretation of a set of experiences in my life.. not a description of my life. I choose not to be a victim but a survivor and one who has not only survived but also thrived. I do NOT see all men as abusers, in fact I know women who could be portrayed in the same light. I apologize to all men who may be offended and think that this is my perception of all men.

thanks tjames... how would you suggest i clarify the fact that the steps are outside instead of inside? In the final I will make sure that Broken is capped.

Amen! I for one plan to lose the 'rat race'!