The Girl on the Swing

The seat appears to be wooden, maybe 4x4 oak. No chance for it to split over years of raucous  play or empty sway in rain, snow, or summer sun. Secure with knotted ends of thick gnarled rope, the swing is strong enough to withstand endless hours of flight.

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Pink Symphony

She interrupted my morning plan.

Instead of wiping down woodwork and watering plants,

I watched Thomas the CHOO! CHOO! Train,

read fairytales forever and ever,

her black satin curls tickling my nose

as she clapped her hands and wriggled in my lap.

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Something New

I wanted to try something new

so I parted my hair on the side

one summer Saturday when I was fourteen.

The small act of self-government

was like my first baby step, wobbly, worrisome,

and very courageous.

My braids had held me back I determined,

so to advance my adolescent adventures,

I looked in the mirror and decided

to change the style of my hair

and borrow my Mother’s black bathing suit with

36-C cups and a girdle tight fit.

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