Little Girl Lost

I search for you everywhere, vigilant

for the familiar flare of wrinkled cotton dress and knee socks crumpled

in schoolgirl fashion.

Little girl mine:

I stand on a street corner watching

with wistfulness stinging my eyes

as other children swirl by-a riot of them, like gorgeous autumn leaves-

smelling faintly of dusty erasers and chalk, their sneakered feet scuffing pebbles in their path,

while my miserable adult self stands stiff and tense.

(They are so loud and carefree, shouldn’t someone warn them of impending danger?)

I look for you up and down twisted suburban avenues, lanes

and half-circled cul-de-sacs (like carefully trimmed cuticles)

and oh my aching heart! should you remain in hiding

my empty arms throbbing for your little-boned embrace.

(I am a wallflower at a prom, desperate for a glimpse of you.

I am an empty box of cereal which promised but failed to include a special prize.

I am a spinster, unloved, my clothes smelling fusty with old age.

I am a wad of gum which has lost all its flavor, I am every disappointment

which shriveled up my mother’s puckered soul.)

Hurry! cries my heart, for twilight is approaching:

but it is not the dark you fear.

Doors slam

drapes are drawn,

the odors of frying meat and despair assault my nostrils

and still, where are you?

Little girl,

my little girl self:

so brave are you!

I am dumb with admiration

dumb in my adult disguise of grey hair and baggy old fogey clothes,

fondly longing to revisit the best of me,

this little girl, little girl lost.

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Tags:

childhood