We No Longer Speak of the Ghost in the Attic

Change.

From the beauty of the leaves in the fall

to a baby’s first word,

change is always happening, but

how can something so beautiful

be so hard?

I long to change, but it’s painful

and scary.

The ghost of the past lingers in my mind,

telling me to remain where I am,

stuck in this rut.

My mind is like an attic

filled with old possessions

and darkness.

But I will get out

someday.

Bravery shall find me

and fight off the past,

so that we

no longer speak of

the ghost in the attic.

(This poem was created as part of my Creative Writing final exam.  The task was to create your own original poem from one of the titles of poems provided.)