Sandra Cisnero's style
Marin was babysitting us again. Louis, his little cousins, and Nenny were running in the front yard chasing small, fluttering butterflies all around. Marin stands in the doorway as always, her dark nylons and heavy make-up concealing her feelings like one of those screen mesh doors that come before the actual door.
Apples, peaches, pumpkin pay-ah.
You're in love and so am ah-ay.
She sings while flipping from letter to letter from her boyfriend in Puerto Rico. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her prince's signature and she looks at it with a dreamy look. Like that look when my mama and papa said "I do." Well, at least from what they told me.
Marin had always looked like a princess as she stood in the doorway. Like one of those locked away princesses who sing all day and look pretty in waiting. She tells me when she has saved enough money, she's going to take a midnight train back to Puerto Rico and no one is going to know because she made us promise not to tell anyone.
Apples, peaches, pumpkin, pay-ay
I'm gonna take a train and never cry-ay
And she clicks her fingers, staring at the kids who chase fairy-like butterflies.
YOU ARE READING
As life goes, so do I
PoetryRead to feel. These poems are written in the hopes that it stirs the emotions. Just maybe someone out there will come across this and find a poem in here that expresses exactly what they are feeling. And for me, I hope that brings comfort to some. T...
