MOVING ON, SINGING A SONG.

 

She read one of her poems on TV.

 

For all the world to hear and see.

 

She also spoke softly of all her pain,

 

To show all the world what she had gained.

 

To the magazines she told her story,

 

To show the world, the before, the after, then the glory.

 

On the radio she told what it was like,

 

She told the world while she held the mike.

 

For ten whole years she answered letters from far and near,

 

From others who also had the fear.

 

Then one day she just gave it all up, and said no more.

 

AGORAPHOBIA, you won’t come back to my door,

 

It’s time to put you in the past where you belong.

 

While she goes off to sing a song,

 

At little Ps, the Methodists or J.A.M.

 

Singing nursery rhymes, just being NAN,

 

And maybe in her spare time,

 

She will still write the occasional rhyme.