Sketches from Old Beginnings


Early morning, mom isn’t here
to ask me what I want
to wear, or wash my cranky face;
my father tying up my pigtails
as I sit in the tiny red
plastic chair, sleepy, obedient


The pink and purple tricycle
is the centerpiece in our
traffic games around
the dining table


Pillow fights on mom and dad’s
bed, we sneak into the room
we never enter (except when
I am bawling with the chicken-pox)
My father, angry on his
no-nonsense days


The apartment so small,
the kitchen, living room,
and dining room are the same room.
The old television with a panel of buttons,
Peter Jennings on the nightly news.


The bathtub. The blue-and-white
floating boat and other things
I liked to sink. My mother
singing me that song for
bathing babies.


The barking dogs behind the green-and-white
checkered fence on the way
to school. We collect cat-tails
in the lot and she takes
me to see the fat cat
who we tease through the mail slot.


For We Write Poems’ Prompt #105, Old Beginnings.

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4 thoughts on “Sketches from Old Beginnings

  1. Irene said it right. Wonderful pastel sketches of childhood moments, each with something worth seeing and saying, although not needing to explain. Simple raw impressions I appreciate reading here. Very well done.

  2. I felt sort of ill.She makes it clear that she doesn’t like swimming.When was the house built? Did you know that Stone ended up marrying his secretary?Don’t fall for it!What be said did not annoy me much, for I knew he did not mean it.He reminds me of his brother.The two brothers look very much alike.Time is up.He struck his attacker on the ear.

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