My Childhood Chest

My Childhood Chest

Opening my chest I see

pink elastics that held in pig tails

too pointy short to waterfall

like the other girls

who wore long braids and rode

pink Huffy's.

Orange dipped popsicle sticks

lining the floor of my yellow dollhouse

where Barbie and Ken sleep on the floor

and there's no such thing

as cellulite.

Inside my childhood chest lies Walrus

overstuffed and foaming at the tusk

to sleep with me in the bed

I made of leaves

in the backyard.

Wilted lady slippers hang on lips

of little girls who know the password

and "no boys allowed"

in my treasure chest
where salimanders are pets.

Opening my chest I see

ballet slippers stained from hopeless spinning

in grass beyond the rock garden

where I planted peas and beans

that bathed in the sun

watching me at play.

Watermellon gum clinging to the edge

reminding me of bubbles popped

against my nose

and the coke bottle glasses

I needed to see the chalkboard.

Reviews

[Lorraine]

Childhood memories sure are precious. It's a nostalgic piece that many people (mostly likely) can relate to. The childish stuffs mentioned here (like the elastic bands and dolls) bring back innocent days when everything's a lot simpler. Great Poem.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Cherrie Palmer]

loved it, good work