365 Days of Poetry: Day Seventy-Three

I was loved once.
Our house sat on a hill and we ran down it
Her and I, the girl who loved me.
My legs lagged quickly behind her speed
but she held my hand fast, and I was not left
then, underneath a bold sun on a
Friday afternoon in fall.

We plunged into leaves, her and I
the girl who loved me and called me Sarah
as we bounced up and down in crackling pleasure.
The leaves got into my bodice, caught in the folds
of my long Christening dress but the girl
the girl who loved me she pulled and picked
all of them out, and smoothed me back to
innocent, porcelain beauty.

She skipped us back to the house
my body dangling from her hand
as the sunset came and took the golden glow
of our playtime away. I sat with her at the table
not eating, but happy to be included.
Her mother already thought me a nuisance
and forbid the girl from bringing me again.

That night, I was laid down in my crib gently.
The girl who loved me sang me to sleep, rocked
me by her bed and then we both headed
into the sweet dreams of childhood.
In the morning I was left there, instead of
hanging at her hand on the way to breakfast-
I was no longer a member of the family.

Time passed, and the songs stopped
I held onto the promise of fall leaves
and the girl who loved me, but I could do
nothing to keep her in love with me and
she needed to move on so I was pushed
away from the bed, over the years, in increments
until I lost even my resting place.

The closet floor is hard but most of all
I miss the girl, the girl who loved me
and dream of crinkling leaves and the
golden promise of sunlight, it hit my face
for the first time in forever today
as they dragged me from my home and
put me on a truck, abandoned.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

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