We
wait for the bride among strangers,
two sisters standing beside a picket fence.
We’re dressed in crisp, white, starched blouses
with ruffled collars and matching jumpers.
I lost a brass button somewhere,
my bangs are too short, and
I peer through my glasses
with a slight smile.
I remember waking later that night,
open suitcases in every room,
then driving through darkness,
mother glad to leave California.
I would not see my father for two decades,
I keep this photo yet, me hopeful, yearning,
my sister hesitant, as if she knew
what was coming.
Today's prompt for Octpowrimo (a poem a day throughout the month of October) asks us to remember the past, to dig down to early memories. I still feel like that bespectacled girl in the photo, long neck arched forward, a slight smile and hopeful.
Love this post and the picture. So sweet.
ReplyDeleteLovely, Beth. Interesting, isn't it, how we are still those same little girls deep inside. xoA
ReplyDeleteLove the imagery. Even with the picture, the poem itself gets the reader's imagination going with the scene that it conjures.
ReplyDeleteBeth - I want to hug that little girl you were - and your sisters, too.
ReplyDeleteHow terrifying it must have been, driving through the night, with everything new and strange and confusing.
I find this a very brave poem. It gripped me. I kept staring into your upturned faces, wanting just to comfort you as I would my own children.
Again, a poem for the ages.
ReplyDeleteKaren