My Little Room
My Little Room
I drive down dirty alleys, playgrounds I once knew,
peering through the panes at memory’s sweet view.
In this place now quite disfigured, I became.
A house can age much faster than people do.
My little room was portal to a world,
where ‘’dream lives’’ were the joy of a young girl,
doctor, teacher, lawyer, first lady or queen
diamonds, rubies, gold, a single strand of pearls.
I close my eyes, it’s nineteen sixty-three,
hearing a young GranMae calling after me.
My little room has moved its realm into the tub,
holding on a raft, stranded, lost at sea.
Amazing, caught up in my play, a juvenile
as cities’ tempers raged and burned stark raving wild.
My little room was holy, peaceful ground,
a temple for a goddess on the Nile.
11/25/16
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2016
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