It seems like just yesterday
my little girl was in ruffles and a bonnet,
then serious-faced with that long, long hair.
Our Lizzy was the observer.
She worshipped Lewis,
kept Jack out of more than his share
of trouble. She watched over Henry
like a mother hen.
She could beat me at checkers, fair and square.
Now I've given her away.
My little girl.
Take care of her, young man. Take good care.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016
I'm going to miss this family I've invented from random photographs and scraps of my own family's history. I plan to work on giving them a more proper storyline. Or perhaps I'll just collect them into an e-book. Time will tell. It always does, it seems.
Buffy has the Poetry Friday roundup at Buffy's Blog.
pinning the flower
of your lapel,
and your eyes looking
off into the future,
as if everything that would unfold
was unfolding down the road,
so I brought you
back into the moment
so that you might live here,
right now, forever.
A sweet moment between father and daughter. Beautifully captured!Delete
...so that you might live here,Delete
right now, forever.
Wow, Kevin. So beautiful.
I'm going to miss your poems this family too! But I'm really thinking they will show up in a book someday pretty soon!ReplyDelete
Really, my love?
You don't remember
how we slipped rings
onto each other's fingers
in front of Judge Hobbs
that day some fifty years ago?
Or how I licked the sticky frosting
off your fingers after we cut the cake?
How the tin cans on the bumper
rattled as we drove away
from the church that afternoon?
Well, perhaps you remember
me carrying you across the threshold
or the musty wet-dog smell
of the rug in our motel room
on our honeymoon that weekend?
Do you remember how your father
bought dinner for us that first night?
His eyes tears as he handed me
the folded twenty-dollar bill
our first night as man and wife,
"Have a steak on me, tonight," he said.
Do you remember laying next
to me in the bed that first night
or ten thousand after that?
How our bodies fit together,
knew each other,
Today's our anniversary, dear.
Surely you remember us?
(c) Carol Wilcox, 2016
Ahh... Kevin's poem makes us stop time, but yours imagines all the possible years of a long life together. Sigh.Delete
Awww...so sweet, Carol, and so bitter. "Surely you remember us?" at the end of such a long time together. And yet, this happens.Delete
All grown up now...Mary Lee, while I did not write alongside you as much as I thought I could, I loved this story that has evolved from your poems. Kevin and Carol, your poems were remarkable today as unfolding memories of joy for a supposed bride.ReplyDelete
I totally agree.Delete
Mary Lee, I'm going to miss them, too. For sure, you have taken good care of these folks through the month.ReplyDelete
Like Carol V., I had hoped to write more with you, but it was not to be.
It's hard to believe you made these guys up - all of the pathos and drama of a family - but from photographic evidence of ...nothing, really, except that they existed.ReplyDelete