©2014 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved
“You’ll always be my little girl.”
What did that mean?
Memories still tumble down
That rocky hill of childhood;
Strange things . . . scary things
Deep dark and screamy things
. . . thought the little girl.
Rock, rock . . . thump and bump
Three kids sat all in a row;
The sofa became their “carni” ride
They rocked and rolled and screamed!
Back and forth with such hefty force
They drove holes into the wall.
Memories haunt the little girl
Even though she’s now grown old.
“You’ll always be my little girl.”?
There were no hugs or comforting words;
Those came from Gramma’s arms and heart
Not this mommy dear.
Can’t fathom those dark blurbs from the past
What did they all mean?
The thumps and rocking so hard?
All part of the ugly scene?
Just childish images of a bogeyman,
A phantom father’s brutalities?
Can’t open that door . . . and what’s more . . .
The little girl doesn’t want to!