It's Still Life

A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
The I In It

Mum let me pick out the material – deepest blue denim. That dress cost as much as a week’s groceries; she reminded me of that every time I wore it. This child who had always run wild against the wind now wanted to be rose-bright and find four walls to contain her fire. Mum alway said, Run with the wind – you’ll get there sooner, but my grandmother told me the way of the wind was not my way. The forest was my cradle, and I still listened to its haunted sorrows. And that dress was my tapestry, as if it was light after a storm, or a cloud free to touch the sky. I thought it might be the colour of the Nile or a moonlit temple. And I can still hear Mum saying, Stop daydreaming, and stick your nose in that Algebra book. I wore that dress until I grew out of it … and failed algebra twice whilst doing so.

To stay like a stone
Or see what is behind stars
Birds sing to a twig

Written for dVerse Poets. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.