Wee Heart
She sits on her unmade bed . . . waiting.
It’s coming, she knows, but please, not today.
Her troubled fingers worry at the dirt beneath her nails.
She’d been playing in the mud making turtles and snails.
Could that be the reason, could that maybe be it?
Her wee heart lightened just a little, just a bit.
She could stop all that mischief and trouble she makes.
She could sweep up the walk and pick flowers today.
She would pick up the dog poop and clean up her room,
if only her mommy didn’t do this . . .
But it was coming soon.
Tears dripped from eyelashes that tickled her cheeks
and fell upon daydreams she prayed she could keep.
Don’t do this please mommy, I can’t be the one,
but the silence continued and dribbled mindlessly on . . .
She waited in the quiet as the light slowly dimmed,
her little heart breaking as her fate settled in . . .
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