Back in 2004 when I was first starting to learn about webpages and Paint Shop, I belonged to the MSN groups and met this lady named Snayke. She gave me permission to post her poem on my website and it has stayed with me for all these years. Then a few weeks back Deane put up a picture similar to this one and Snayke's poem came flooding back. This is for you Terri. Shelf �© Snayke 2004 isn't it funny she thinks to herself how i've come to be perched here on this dusty shelf like a book full of secrets no one's ever read in a somnolent hall a sealed vault of cold lead isn't it funny how they'll point from afar with hearts of formalin they'll dissect these scars if for only one moment they could be where she's been they could not turn those heads and deny what they've seen it doesn't feel funny she thinks through her tears that she's wandered so helplessly all these long years to embrace what is left when the fire's smoke has cleared and she finds her arms empty but for judgment of peers it doesn't feel funny to admit where she's failed to reach out yet again and pray breathe unassailed but the secret still whispers and ignore it she can't for the music's still playing and the soul... needs the dance "isn't it funny..." and she pushes away from the darkened old shelf to rejoin light of day. ���© Snayke 2004