My FIrst Attempt at Something Resembling Poetry

untitled THINGS

41 things for 41 years

So many memories full of some hopes and some fears

My tattered pink teddy bear, thread barren and scarred

That note Tim gave me that made me cry so very hard.

That tiny little Buddha my mom treasured like gold

My first velour onesie, and red Christmas stocking

So precious, so old

Perhaps it’s my journals that make my memories so clear

Perhaps it’s my unclear recollection that make memories I fear

I am sure I still have my old, worn out cassettes

There was U2, Madonna, Wham, and of course there was Bette

Strawberry Shortcake was my favorite

I will never forget

How she sat on the shelf with Barbie, Raggedy Ann, Andy, and Corvette

Every night I stare at those pictures of Effie and Wy

They sit next to those ones of me and Wade when I was five

Behind them are my books I brought with me here

There is bell hooks, Margaret Atwood. Salinger, and that one about that girl

That started with Dear

Those bracelets I have that were passed to me from before

Are sitting in my jewelry box that I never open

Inside the top drawer

I wish I kept the art I first made in the stylings of Holzer

I was proud, I was woman, I was a feminist, and I made a poster.

Some things I don’t like, unfortunately remain

In the box at my brothers

In the closet with the old frames

I can’t seem to get away from those symbols of a love that no longer exists

The letters, knick knacks, dried flowers, and that old fashioned whisk

I want to forget that bear that said ‘love’

But it sits in the box with the ring and those gloves

So much to hold on to

So many more tears

Those 41 things for those 41 years

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My FIrst Attempt at Something Resembling Poetry

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