Girlhood

My sister and I would lie in the son.

We freckled instead of tanned

With blotchy elbows and knees,

And muddied footprints

 

That followed a summer storm.

Mom would scold

As we trekked through the house.

Before she’d chase us out

 

Spray us with a hose

And change our clothes,

And we would laugh.

three of us dancing

 

In the artificial rain.

The sun would shine

Mists and rainbows,

On those bleak sweltering days.

 

White wisps turned grayish glooms

When asked,

“When’s Daddy coming home?”

things where never the same.

 

The days mom would cry

At the sound of his name.

My sister stood steadfast,

The loyal daughter,

 

While I set his socks on fire.

Trying to forget

The man that kicked

The soccer ball for us,

 

And held us high

over the countryside.

Pointing at cows and sheep

Grazing on the grassy hillsides.

 

The gravel roads that curved

And twisted down

Toward the sea.

The roads he followed,

When he went away.

Where mom called out

And my sister remained.

Little did I know,

 

I would follow his way.