Like a calico cat you grew
up proud and beautiful.
We remember you pointing a little
finger at the pretty
yellow flower patch by
your play-cabin bobbing high on
the rope swing then
scooting past with a handful
of Daisies even stepping
around prickly thistles past
daddy’s hammock and
running like the wind across pieces
of wood for a sidewalk.
Our backyard trees still surround
walls once made of blankets
momma’s old cushion and faded
table still here also that
slab of panel cut for a roof.
Come back soon. And be our
little girl once again.
© Richard & Esther Provencher
First published Spring 1992
Volume Two, Number One
CUMULUS, Windspeak Press
Wood Mountain, Saskatchewan
ISSN-1188-163-2
Comments
maggyvaneijk | November 22, 2010 - 22:12
beautiful, such a memorable poem and it works very cinematically, I can imagine the little girl running round due to the vivid imagery.