These sacs of joy, of perk, of please.
Alone in the early morning light
I can pull them up and share a tale,
once upon a time there was a girl...
and then the sun climbs
and they fall,
and the end of the story is all but told.
These.
Sustenance givers, meal revokers.
You know, they really do have a mind of their own.
Where kids were concerned
they were cranky.
As a consequence,
the kids were too.
Always the shy girls, they were,
but smart ones too.
If you could get them alone for a moment
in a corner,
well, they'd keep you entertained!
They are beyond utility.
They groan on their own.
Their grandmother's were lopped off
and thrown away with a heavy wrist
like fat from a roast.
Mine, they can stay where they're at.
They might not always have the right answers
but they always point me in the right direction.
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WHO AM I?
I'm Woman in a Window escaped to the back room. I've just come in from letting the dog out. It's too cold out there for me so I'm sitting by the back door watching the light bulb swing. This is my space to think, to do what I want, to drag mud in on my boots and not worry about the floor. The kids are in bed. They can't bust me. No one gives a rat's ass 'bout clean floors and not many come 'round this way much anyway. Yup, this is my space. Mine. All mine.
I'm Woman in a Window escaped to the back room. I've just come in from letting the dog out. It's too cold out there for me so I'm sitting by the back door watching the light bulb swing. This is my space to think, to do what I want, to drag mud in on my boots and not worry about the floor. The kids are in bed. They can't bust me. No one gives a rat's ass 'bout clean floors and not many come 'round this way much anyway. Yup, this is my space. Mine. All mine.
RULES
Welcome to my back room. Come in. Take your shoes off. Sit awhile. If you're here it's 'cause we're friends. You must know me. You've got low expectations. Your feet stink. My floor's dirty. This is how it goes. It's my place. You're welcome but this is no parlour. There's no pretty furniture. There's no ambiant lighting. It's the bare bulb hanging low on a rope room, not even really a room, just a space. A space between here and there, between me and you and the back door. This is the door I use to bring the groceries in through, the trash out through. You are welcome, just be warned, it might not always be comfortable.
have coffee with me, sit with me, don't mind the mess with me
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10 comments:
Wow! This is funny and bittersweet and a nice perspective from the "other side". Thanks for sharing. Bravo!
I missed your posts while I was away!
Great stuff, as always, Woman.
Fabulous, Ms. Erin. There just aren't enough adjectives in the dictionary for your writing. You inspire me. Blessings & Love!
Very cool, Erin!
Ah, the girls. Love hate relationship. Really must get to my breast management post. So much to say on the matter. Loved it Erin!
A Lifetime
I lie where I can
touch your breasts as reminders
of those days and you
permit it, my old
familiar touch when it comes.
I hum low and deep
in my baritone
as I caress these deep dreams
reaching to the start
of things for us so
many years ago, decades,
in this timeless day.
Christopher, that is perfect.
hummmmmm...
Well done! Yes, this is bitter-sweet!
e-a marvelous ode to womanhood. It's better than anything we got shakin on this side of the fence.
a love hate relationship, maybe. but what power they wield! ~rick
You have described my (dis)affection for my girls perfectly.
As for pointing me in the right direction...well, if the floor is the right direction, then so be it.
:)
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