Deflowered
Perched on tiptoe
Pressed face on milky
Window
The old woman's secrets
Unfolded in the dim
Golden light
She was on top
On seven year old tiptoes
Perched precariously
The itch to know the
White haired crone
Who planted daisies
Among the rushes
Threaded violets
through snow covered branches
This secreted apparition brought
To visibility
Her child's curiosity now
A lighten-burden smiling
The itch scratched a sigh
On her lips sweet, she stared
As her brother holding the
Ladder slicks back his hair
And with a crash certain
To blast the old wondrous
woman's sanctity
The child falls
With a listen for the inevitable
Tragic end of carefully constructed
Consecrated magic
This reminds me of those dares and double dare backs of childhood - by peers you thought were friends but really weren't.
ReplyDelete"You go ring the old man's door bell and then run!"
Things of that nature.
And yet those older folks just really wanted someone to sit with them and share their stories and baked goods...
I've two this week.
I'll offer up in a link the non-story which is sort of a story too (but Mr. Linky or the Whirl comments section or even if you are on the blog you should be able to get to the Story Verse piece).
http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/12/sunday-whirl-87-non-story-life-well.html
A child's wonder, precious, careful to hold.
ReplyDeleteWe are such delicate creatures! How have we managed to survive this long and still hold on to beauty?
ReplyDeleteI felt a strong sense of the story here, secrets and drama and sadness: you paint a moving picture.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful story poem which has enriched my Sunday. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteA Deliciously edgy fairy tale. Divine!
ReplyDeleteThis takes me back to childhood, and our curiosity. But yikes! the fall must have hurt.
ReplyDeleteThe layers of meaning I detect here are somewhat disturbing, not unlike the tales of old.
ReplyDeleteThere do seem to be many layers, some magical, to this tale--really well crafted piece!
ReplyDeleteYes I think Kim has it.
ReplyDeleteA tragic ending.
JzB
And they say women are vain... To think that it took a Brylcream boy to upset your sweet heroine!
ReplyDeleteLovely poem.
the imaginings of curious children... I think this is the magic of the world.
ReplyDeletenice imagery - I like the white haired crone planting daisies among the rushes, and threading violets through snow covered branches!
ReplyDeleteA whimsical portrait of childhood. Thanks. :)
ReplyDeleteCool tale, with a wonderful ending!
ReplyDelete