Curtain Call

Walking backwards through a torn curtain
To where the smell of fresh baked bread
Coloured the air with the comfort 
Of what was once certain;
I ask myself, what can we be sure of now?
Does the pleasure of that domestic scene
Still carry the same warmth of the blanket
That I carried as a child?
Is there any reason still to dream?
Or believe that such comforts can still maintain,
Hold the dark at bay, keep the wolf 
At least from my loved ones door....?
And, if not, who should divide the blame?
Best let the curtain remain
And let the scented memories rest
For what they are - a time I will never
Revisit, a time when there was no pain...
Exchanged for a sad and pointless contest.