Hey mister!
Hey mister!
The little girl calls in her
little-girl voice.
Hey mister! Up here!
She calls again, still
little but clearly showing
a growing impatience.
Her pig tails poke
over the sill. My eyes meet
chocolate-milk saucers –
filled to brimming
– and her questions spill
down on me.
I leave my answers there
to fly to her. They were
not meant for the dogs,
or for the dumpsters lining
this brick-shouldered alley,
or for me to hold.
3 comments:
Oh Francis, I love this piece. It took me to an unexpected place, that changed my heart's rhythm for a second. Well done.
~Brenda
francis,
i like the little fun that you have here....little girl voice...i think we seldom use such references...we at times try too much to present rather than create..you quite admirably bring it back to old times....simpler times....and it feels like if my say,a little boy's happiness ..that first butterfly of our lives ...fly across our eyes...cheers!!
@Brenda Thanks. This one is based on a real-life experience, which doesn't happen much in my poetry. Maybe it should happen more :). Thanks for the new Wordle prompt. I'll post my poem tomorrow.
@Manik I'm glad that feeling came across. I've been trying to capture the sense of wonder found in good story telling. I hope it translates soon into longer narrative works.
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