Following the “childhood” themed poetry prompt today on the Poetic Asides blog. At first I started writing about my kids, as their experiences inspire me every day. But, I ended up going in the direction of my own childhood instead.
Playtime at Home
Could be the white wooden bed
a twin, with two drawers to hide
my most secret wishes.
Could be the lilac bushes.
Fragrant pop of purple, mid summer.
My own wild home
under whispering branches.
Could be the basement corner
with the Barbie mansion, a trunk full of dolls.
Lit with a bare bulb, unfinished ceiling above,
I murmured conversations between the Barbies and Kens.
Above, the heavy feet of my family,
pressing down into my private playtime.
Could be the crumpled pink quilt fashioned into
a mountain for Strawberry Shortcake miniatures.
Each crease in the fabric a place for them to burrow.
Sometimes I imagined shrinking,
crawling into cozy corners with them.
Smelling their fruit-scented plastic,
making myself rigid
when Mom came calling for supper.