Regression

Who is knocking? pitter patter
    Outside my door
         my window
My mind.

On a particularly loud day
I will see her drift by:
words on the wind,
a maze swimming
over a sea of images.
She will never stop
    she can't stop
until she finds her
Destination.
    hidden,
         safe.

Breeze through the trees
    catches on the leaves
and I wonder why
I don't see her
anymore
than a barest glimpse--
a lens flare on a sunny day--
just enough of the big picture
to paint a stroke of doubt,
forever a scar on the back of my mind.