Did Pigtailed Girls Run Here?

I go
down to where the fishermen are found.
The shoreline is empty,
save for me,
fishing for words.

prompted by the old house
are strong,
as strong now as they were on that day last September,
but they are also elusive,
resisting capture.

I peer,
trying to discern the outline
of thought-wisps
from that day,
7 months ago
when I counted rings and wondered.

in cotton dresses
once run here?

And brothers
pull treasures
from river’s bottom,
or perhaps catch a fish
for dinner and take it home
through the side door?

On summer days warm and free,
did they hold fast to ropes
strung from limbs of trees
securing the banks,
and swing out over the water
and drop in?

I can almost hear their laughter,
see them trying to outdo each other.

Were blankets spread
and picnics enjoyed
under the watchful eye
of an aproned mother
in spots
now sit
scattered about

one kayaker,
two cyclists,
three walkers,
four people with who came together by car
(with Wendy’s bags),
ALL picnicking?

This place was once somebody’s home.

Was it then
painted fresh,
breezes blowing through curtained windows,
Sunday guests
relaxing on front porch?

Or maybe not.
Maybe all along
it’s just been
on its way to what it is now,

(Continued HERE)

* * *

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About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
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One Response to Did Pigtailed Girls Run Here?

  1. Pingback: The Truth about Neglected Things « marilynyocum.com

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