Overgrown Sneakers
At early twelve, motherly words echoed
Of the self, becoming a lady one January eve.
No, it can’t happen, as a pale navel ached when
Another unintended milestone had begun—
Those rubber sneakers fondly overused died
On a pink carpet, that I could not understand
How unusually larger my almond eyes
Woke a year after: Tucking my dear book-
‘Neverending Story- ’ round hips would prance
Through autumn rain finding me at the junction
Of in-betweens ( kid and teenager), confused …
I missed all overgrown sneakers, even PlayDoh
quivering in anticipation that... I might not belong.
( Not entered in any challenge)
Submitted to Brian Strand's Contest 530
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2018
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