They are predicting it will be in the 20s at night by Tuesday. So this was our last warm and pleasant weekend. I planted the tulips Casey brought me from Amsterdam. Shea, Joe and I cut and carried down and dead from the lower half of our acre. We also sat around the fire pit and burned last year's Christmas tree. Saturday I joined my women friends who have formed a writing group. Linda, who is the director of the EKU honors program, runs the writing group. I have know Doris and Cindy since 1984 and the rest of them since moving to Kentucky. It is so much fun to write for FUN and not for the job. Here is a poem I wrote in response to a prompt at one of our meetings. It is based in fact but not entirely factual so Casey need not address any inaccuracies : )
My Daughter’s Room
Door decorated, half done
One time weapon of privacy
Her name – first, middle, last – intertwined
Peacock feather – tattooed memory of childhood
Grandmother and zoos and fearlessness.
Peace sign, puzzle piece
Stack of books with reader atop
Visualizing the door, the girl, the meaning
Step inside
PURPLE walls, dark, dark purple
Bring to my mind autistic children
In a purple clinic.
Touches of light purple design
Sweat, tears, getting it just right
A neatness of clutter.
The chest of drawers
Topped with her deserted jewelry of childhood
Bracelet of smiley faces, peace signs and flowers
A match for the door.
Her uncle’s gold pocket watch
Initials matching hers
The bookcase
Her carefully collected rubber duckies
A row of TV DVDs
Shared concertina with her best friend
The desk a biggest jumble
Incense and candles
A candlesnuffer.
Forgotten tape of Helen Keller
A current interest, a future career
Ancient block
From childhood
Just long gone.
Lighted pathway to the fire pit.
Shea putting the Christmas tree on the fire.
Max sitting on my lap enjoying the flames
Autumn pears and apples
L to R = Doris, Beverly, Cindy, Sue and Linda
1 comment:
The poem is so pretty. Did you write it?
Post a Comment