I was moving a cabinet a little while ago and that entailed cleaning out drawers. I happened upon poems I had written years ago and I would like to share one with you. For some reason the working title of this was "Abuse". I am not sure just what kind of abuse, but here it is:
Mother, may I please go out and play
In the forest by the house today?
May I take my dolly with the broken arm
Deep in the forest so dark and warm?
You see the sun is shining bright,
But in the forest there is little light.
I promise that I will take care
While in the dark cool forest there.
Dolly needs to rest and mend her arm
And the forest holds a magic charm.
I'll make a bed of pine boughs sweet
And lay dear dolly at my feet.
I'll lay her gently; Her eyes will close,
And she will be in sweet repose.
The forest nymphs will gather round
As dolly rests upon the ground.
Then you will see her arm will be
As perfect as it used to be.
Then daddy can if he but will
Take you to the forest still.
He'll lay you down 'neath sky and tree
Then bring you safely home to me.
For I can see you growing weak,
I can barely hear you speak.
So Mother dear I can but plead
Rest in the forest is what we need.
I often find stuff I wrote years ago and wonder why I turned out like I did. I guess life got in the way. Sam sent me a picture of myself when I was a Freshman in Nickerson High School and I wonder where that slip of a girl went and more importantly, when did she leave? I flash back to days gone by and try to put my finger on the day I lost all that naiveté and became calloused. Or was it a series of days...and nights. I would like to blame it on someone, but who? The first husband? When I became a mother? Second husband? When did I learn to be a waitress? A cook? An accountant? A widow? When did I learn to sew? Weave? When did I turn into an activist and a compassionate woman?
I used to tell my mother that I wished I could do it all over again and this time I would get it right. There would be one husband. 2 kids and a puppy. We would live in a nice house and have money in the bank. We would go to church every Sunday and donate to charities. If only. And Mother always told me "Hind sight is 20/20....looking back.
So here I set a withered up old woman trying to tell the new generation how to do it and they laugh at me. Tape player? What is that? Manual transmission? $100 bill? Phone stuck to the wall? That is a pisser. It makes me sad that the old days are gone. If I had it to do over again I would most definitely take pictures of the old wringer washer with the Kodak box camera my brother sent me from Germany. I would have a pair of dad's overalls tucked away some where. And I sure as hell would not have thrown my first diamond wedding rings in the river up by Concordia.