|Dress from NewFrog|
It's shadowless, air's thick with caution. Everything's familiar,
yet comfort alludes me. House void of furniture,
front door's missing, humming floats from kitchen.
Realize I'm a boy. Same hairstyle, thanks to Mother's home cuts,
eyes, nose, mouth haven't changed,
chest still flat... strangely feel empowered.
Tear off shirt, it's allowed now, grab a stick, slice the air,
revel in new found freedom. Rebel yell escapes my lips;
then I see him and duck behind a tree. Paperboy.
Sister descends porch steps,
a shoulder revealing sundress goddess,
hair curled just so. Her smile's returned.
Long to be a girl, just not the one I was.
Run back into the house, slam heavy door behind me,
house so crammed with furniture a path toward kitchen is non-existent.
Mother's making cherry pie, which always makes me happy,
yet all I can do is stand still as my mouth waters.
Shadows have returned. smell of crust and fruit fill the air,
yet comfort alludes me. Twelve is an awkward age.
by Margaret Bednar, July 22, 2018
I invite you to listen to me read this poem (below)
I am participating with "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - A Little Night Music" and writing about a dream or write in a dream like manner. I chose to try and capture a dream I've had a few times in my life - the same exact dream. I find it very hard to explain and I'm not very good at weaving a dreamlike tale but I wanted to participate.
I do LOVE sundresses and I almost bought quite a few while googling sundresses... this was almost a costly exercise but I refrained. :)