Writing Prompt

It’s dawned on me, I finally see,

what the “inner child” actually means.

All this time, I had been thinking,

“How, at this age, can I unwind time

and go back to the me who was the shortest?”

“Who was she, and how would I know her?

She’s not in the mirror, she’s barely in my memories, and all those who knew her never seemed to really.”

Yet, I had it all wrong, that’s not who I seek.

No, it’...

Dedicated to my Puppe

I’ve been sitting here and waiting, staring at the door;

Waiting for my mother who they say won’t come anymore.

I’ve been sitting here for ages, my bottom starts to ache,

And yet this feeling haunts me every moment I’m awake.

I know it was just yesterday when my mother called my name,

I know it in my heart of hearts but something’s not the same.

Now my limbs feel he...

When It rains,

I get excited like a child,

For when the rain comes,

There’ll always be puddles on the ground.

I go outside,

And search for a puddle,

The biggest one I can find,

To play in it.

When I do find one,

I begin to kick the water,

All over the place,

Not a care in the world.

Some people look at me like I’m crazy,

Others avoid eye contact,

Sometimes I can hear their whispers,

“What’s wro...

The sun shines,

The trees eclipse,

The gravel shimmers,

The cars sit still,

Like me,

My skin wrapped and crumpling,

Shaking and quivering,

Only able to stare out,

So many decades have passed,

The day the war orphaned me,

The day I flew to the States,

The day I lay here,

But the cars and gravel disappear,

The trees turn pink,

The walls disappear,

My home had returned,

Echoes of a child’s laugh,...

The tender, loving grip on my hand as my face is cusped brings me back to a different time for but a moment. That loving and caring, yet guided and concerned grasp was the same one my parents had on me when I was a child. When I first learned how to walk, when I hurt myself, when I felt sad. Somehow, over 70 years after the first, most tender hug I've ever received at this very hospital, I lie her...

Oh Little to late

as she

used to be the living little girl

oh but too little too late

for the little girl stuck in a body that isn't hers

Hers is an elder body

with wrinkles and bumps

Her skin used to be smooth and full of life

But what had happened She would ask

We used to play and dance

but I will forever be stuck in this body that I do not fit in

...

My elbow hurts

Another pain on that

Dull aching highway

Twisting on my creaky joints

Just out of the corner of my eye

I see a girl, age 4 or 5

Striped shirt

Hair in four pigtails

Astride a bear statue

She is at the zoo or

Maybe a long forgotten park

Daddy, now gone, could be out of the frame

Mom maybe standing behind the camera

She’s small for her age

With skinny arms and legs

And a smile...

A little hand

holds me in the sand

brings me to a memory

I never thought I had

She is blurry

she teaches me to dance

she doesn't ever judge me

because I can't use my legs

little baby

with dullen buckled shoes

and a handmade dress

from her mothers broken hands

baby leads me

to a bright white angel

and I never seem to remember

what she called herself

...

The flowers have withered,

I see.

Wasted away,

Pieces adrift in the wind.

The weeds have overgrown,

I see.

Visual thieves,

Hugging the home we built.

We used sticks,

And rocks.

We used pillows,

And blankets.

We used popsicle sticks,

And paper.

We used cereal boxes,

And milk cartons.

And we sat in the fields,

Felt the sun bury itself on our faces,

Planned to coexist,

With our fingers tracing ...

Getting old,

It’s such a relative term.

It’s more of a state of mind

Than it is anything else.

When I get old,

I won’t really be old,

I’ll still play on the swings,

And laugh at little things.

I won’t be confused

And look down upon

The new generations.

And most of all,

I’ll still be me,

Not a grumpy,

Grey, Grandma.

But as I age,

So does the

Rest of the World.

And soon enough,

Everyone that...