Another Morning

The sun poured through the window of my attic room, shafts of sunlight- spotlights on the wood floor; I got out of bed to soak up the morning sunlight, and placed my doll on the window ledge- while I went to wash my face- comb my long dark hair, I quickly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt . . . I climbed down the steep stairs to the kitchen, grandma was already asleep in her rocker- snoring; mother put a bowl of cereal on the table and milk, (she didn't smile- she never did anymore) all she said to me was, "get that doll off the table!" I quickly finished and grabbed my pink backpack, I put doll inside and walked slowly down the street; to the park where ducks drifted on a silent pond, I had some bread from my supper last night. Then, I went to the church and opened the ornate door, going quietly past huge columns to the chapel; I had a nickel- I had found and so I lit one small candle, for my sister, whispering, I miss you Susie . . . I followed a secret path in the forest to my special place, leaning up against an old tree and taking out my doll; my pencil, my paper and began to write but stopped- as tears fell from my lonely eyes . . . there is still a lot of that little girl inside me . . . ______________________________ March 5, 2017 Poetry/Narrative/Another Morning Copyright Protected, ID 17- 882-210-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudony. Submitted to the, March 2017 Premier Contest Sponsor, Brian Strand Sixth Place