It's Still Life

I. (PA: Panel)
Just Another Stroke

It was the summer I turned 5,
maybe I was 4, but it was summer.
Dad always painted the fence
in August, and as I watched

the white paint being stroked
up and down in long, slow and
deliberate sweeps of the brush,

I told him that I’d never marry
because I loved him.

And he glanced down at me,
and then painted the words
I Won’t Marry on the fence panel.

What does that say, he asked me,
and I had to guess because I didn’t
read words so well back then,

and I said, I Love You Too?

And Dad took his brush and
painted over those words as if
the thought never entered my mind.

II. (Quickly: Classic Baby)
Bend

Those under fives, they’re
not quite solid.
They bend like number 8,

and hang like autumn leaves
from the playground gate.
They scribble on the walls,

their little grinning faces,
and when it’s time to sleep,
they say that bed can wait.

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These poems/prose are draft versions, written in participation of Miz Quickly’s prompts and Writers’ Digest (Poetic Asides) November poem-a-day challenge. The aim: to produce a chapbook for submission. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Images are ©Misky, and created using AI-Midjourney.