Side by side in silent play we fashion
three dimensional dreams in the sandbox
Two busy builders under a cloudless sky
shaping our world with sticks and stones
Monday morning saunters by to the rhythms
of the creaking swings that sing a comforting refrain
chain by chain to laughing children, yapping dogs,
gossiping birds and the buzz of late summer
Those sounds evoke a memory of sitting on the cool floor
with our crayons and paper, half listening to
grown ups in the rocking chairs in Oklahoma
our elders telling stories in the swelter of July
“Girls, lunch is ready!” Mother calls
We abandon our castles and scurry to the picnic table
hungry for a feast of peanut butter and jelly triangles, cold milk from the thermos, carrot sticks, and juicy grapes
All hold hands through the crosswalk under the shady sycamores
Inside we settle for quick kisses on our temples as we drift into nap time
Mother sleeps too, our brother in her swelling belly
who will arrive in a few days
That's me on the right above and on the left below
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Comments: 32
Lovely to read a slice of your life. Makes me wonder and want to know more about what formed you into the woman we know now. Hmmm.
Thank you submitting to Gathers Luminous Writers and Artists. Now featured.
And yes, reading it reminded me of pick up sticks, jacks and all that. My photos are similar....
Thank you for submitting to: Not Gathering Dust!