Number Three

Delivering laundry, I pause at the door

of your room, survey this soft stuff of life:

a week’s worth of clothes on the floor,

dresser candy-littered with hairbands,

loom bracelets, a jewelry stand.

Your shelves full with trip souvenirs,

cute animal books, silk-flower fairies

forlorn in fine dust. On your desk,

a sheet of paper covered in schoolgirl’s best

writing: lyrics of a boy-band song. Against the wall,

the fashion doll, wigless, in her Barbie-house bed;

her friends in a box (farewells left unsaid?).

I glance up at the skylight, festooned with scarves

and framed by December frost. I sigh for all

that is gained and lost in a year’s time.

You haven’t asked for toys this Christmas.

 

Inspired by Red Wolf Poems’ We Wordle 32. With the words fly, dust, song, puff, toy, frost, soft, fairies, lost, life, door, the poem pretty well wrote itself.

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16 thoughts on “Number Three

  1. “I glance up at the skylight, festooned with scarves

    and framed by December frost. I sigh for all

    that is gained and lost in a year’s time.

    You haven’t asked for toys this Christmas.”

    These lines in particular are just too good. Lovely poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh….sigh, this is so tender and bitter-sweet…I’m getting ready for these kinds of things, too…my first will be eight this January so I think-hope-that it will be a while still…

    Beautiful descriptions…you pulled me right into the scene with your words and emotions. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s a transition that’s hardest with the youngest, I guess. I think that “farewells” line was tugging out some other things…

      Like

  3. I’m grandmother to six boys so I’ve been through the last lines of your poem. Time just seems to go too fast. You wove the words beautifully – lovely, sweet, tender poem. I agree with Misky – hope you surprised her with your poem in her stocking.

    Liked by 1 person

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