Daddy, who he took us to meet
Seemed but a doll of porcelain
Stiff, dusty, delicate,
Paint chipping from her china skin.
Her mouth, painted shut
Her wide eyes stared
I looked away
At Daddy, I glared.
For what was she good?
Perched in a wheelchair
Numb to our actions
For us, how could she care?
A gasp flew out
Before I could catch, and
She opened her lips
Her stories began.
She chanted such wisdom
Her lips, a crescent moon
As she spoke of flappers,
Jazz, and The Blues.
She preached of prosperity
At its highest place
A bed for every body
Food for every plate.
On, she proceeded
Her eyes, precipitation
She rained of Hoovervilles
Lines, loss and starvation.
Lightening in her eyes, on she told
Numbers on arms, that bad men etched
Death floating from chimneys
Robots marching to death.
Her thundering soul rumbled
Trenches dug to hell
Peeking over to shoot
A blast to head, they fell.
My smile brightened and my heart sunk
In sync with Miss. Skeleton-Doll
I hugged her tight and careful
Sealing the memories in all.
I was but a fool
From my first impression
For now, I am glowing
And I have a confession.
I love now this woman
Who showed me a treasure chest
Incredible, mind blowing
Fresh look into the past.
YOU ARE READING
From My Mind to Yours (2016)
Puisi"I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty". (Edgar Allen Poe)
