Brooding images
It was a time when I
Did not discern my inner self
Child growing under parent's wings
Protected ,cared for in daydreaming state
Not noticing my mother's failing health
The father's drunken sprees
Dolls,movies, books,whole world was a playground
I often catch myself to stare at kiddies games
From age height grinning knowingly and sad
The road I chose(or destiny rolled dice)full of thorns
Left blemishes ,branding their marks forever on my mind
Children in the park enjoying, screaming ,driving crazy moms
Unaware that moments of the heedless fun will not repeat
They exist here ,now only already becoming past
Sand granules sliding through the palms
Into warm bosom of the earth
I guess I am brooding over things
Not capable to change ,putting in reversing mode
The images stand up in cavalry line up
The Andersen fairy tales book , huge china yellow roses
On living room's wallpaper,the piano lessons(hated them)
Sleeping on the balcony in summertime
Yes had no sense of who I am ,just lived
Jumbling reality and dreamland into unmixed mix
What a misnomer..fool I am not(anymore)
Yet did not grow old ..grew young (silly,greenish apple)
by Margaret Gudkov
art by Andrea Banjac
