June

The memories are stitched in the hands of paper dolls.

The seeds spill out into the bird feeder,

and I watch it fill to brimming.

I want to write so I can read of her

when the memory starts dimming.

I glimpse her face in the rearview mirror

while my future lies up ahead.

The season makes the ghost of her clearer.

She lives in the back of my head.

Like a pine tree, she is tall and bony

and possessed by a distant time.

Her eyes are faint flecks of abalone

struck by sunlight’s glistening climb.

She lives in the water, the earth, the air,

and in traces of fleeting dust.

She lives in the silence everywhere,

in journals of iron and rust.

She settles in my bones, sunken and still,

clinging to life within my frame.

She dances in moonbeams on vernal hill.

She is the season of her name.

The memories are both bitter and sweet,

stitched in the hands of paper dolls,

haunting that old tenement on Clay Street

where laughter echoed off the walls.

She permeates my world someway, somehow.

A little girl remembers still;

and I wish I knew then what I know now

and shall forever, always will.

That love wears glasses and a bucket hat,

is humble as a picayune,

and lives in a dark-paneled city flat

with an old lady known as June.

Author's Note

In Memory of June Wright. Paper dolls can mean so much to an abused and neglected little girl. One spark of kindness can light up the night.

Reviews

[Roland Petrov]

When writing becomes this personal, it usually touches people in a very meaningful way. This is my favorite poem of yours so far.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Roland. She was there when I had no one else, at a time when I was too young to express my gratitude. I hope in some way to redeem it now.

[Richard🖌]

Linda,
There is no doubt you are a special lady, too, who belongs on an esteemed list with June, and anyone who doubts this need but only read your amazing poetry to understand just how special you truly are.
The manner in which you painted a portrait of June with your words is simply amazing, and you've brought her to life in a way only an accomplished masterful wordsmith could have.
Stunned and swept away into the reality of your poem would succinctly describe me in this moment. The sheer wonder of your verse inspired me to read this masterpiece several times, and don't ask how many, because when one is captivated they don't bother with counting, only in sating their desires and pleasures.

Smiling, because I'm going to run out of verbiage and descriptors — thank you, Dear Linda, so very much … hugs to you! ~ Richard

The picture, BTW, is a marvelous choice.

[ANTO]

The season's strong associations with your friend bring her memory strongly to life each year from a light rest in the mind. Im sure the love and light was reciprocated in the way kids do by their very presence bringing great joy to her.
You pay a moving and frankly poetically perfect tribute to her, here Linda Marie.
It is a pleasure to read.

[dan]

Linda, Speculating about what familial or 'just a nice woman' relationship you had with June is fruitless and not relevant. What matters is what you meant to each other; she gave you security and balance, you gave her an outlet for her still-youthful spirit to frolic. She may not have been able to erase the abuse you endured but brought enough sunshine into your life to enable you to look past the clouds. Everyone's like, like every year, should have a June in it. Thanks so much for sharing her life-force with all of us. take care...dan

[MsJewel]

A beautiful tribute to someone who touched your life. I read your response to Jacob's comment, which makes your poem even more heartfelt. I can tell there is a special place in your heart for June and for your paper dolls. Hold on to those lovely memories - I'm certain where ever June is - she is smiling.

:) Julie

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Julie. Who knew that I'd carry those paper dolls with me after all of these years?

[Dean]

I hope and believe that June is "settled in your bones"..I know that she 'over there' appreciates it. They are so eloquent...these silent people!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I love that ... "these silent people;" and you are right, they are very eloquent indeed

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and this poem emotes of the kindness of this Woman named for a month that is my birthday month...a beautiful tribute...and many of us can relate...as we see relatives and older friends in the rear view mirror even as we drive ahead toward our own future..

one day we will be in that rear view mirror, and would hope someone would remember us like this.

love it.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Jacob. I've been thinking of her over the last couple of days; and as I was filling up the bird feeder today, the beginning of the poem was born. I feel so bad that I was so young and unable to express what she meant to me as that lost and lonely little girl. I'm sure that I kept her from being lonely as well since she never had any visitors or family come to see her.
Unfortunately, my mother stripped her from my life, forbidding me from seeing her and refusing to let her see me. My mother truly did everything within her power to remove joy from our lives. I am quite sure that June has long left this world, but I just wanted to put it out there to the universe what a difference she made in my life. For that, I am eternally grateful; and I'll never forget the trips to buy the paper dolls and the little plastic box that she kept them in for me.

Happy, happy birthday in advance. :-)