© Written September 15, 1998 by Patsy Dale Henson
When I began to walk on eggshells every time that you came in the door, I knew that we had run out of the first impression.
As I would struggle through my thoughts of you, instead of with the ease of first love, I knew it was time to clearly see the truth of the moment.
You are about to become what once was, no longer to be my future. I am about to become what I have feared the most, your untruthful story of blame or the one that got away because I had to run.
If I am ever going to walk on eggshells again, it will be in my garden where the beautiful flowers bloom.