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Amy
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From The Heart Opening the squeaky door to the closet
Beneath the stairs,
Transported her to a mystical world.
A realm, of dreams, Barbie’s, puzzles, baby carriages and dolls.
For numerous years, these toys would bring a smile
to her little face,
and joy to her heart.
Hours of amusement in the magical world
of her youth.
Today, the hall is piled four feet high
with items, broken, discarded and out grown.
Sitting on the hardwood floor,
I sort through the various stages of my little girl’s youth,
Reminiscing and delighting in the memories.
To my dismay,
the toys do not find their way back,
to that mystical land under the stairs.
A changed young woman immerged
out of the closet under the stairs
and closed the childish door for the last time.
Jeanne,
This is one of my favorites of your works. I am not a mother, almost was one once, but it wasn't in the cards. I am very close to the children in my life (my nephews and nieces) and I feel that I am able to relate to this.
You are sentimental, like me. That's a good thing.
Nice job. :-)
--Donna
PS-- I am using a new e-mail address (see my listing for the new one if you want to write sometime). Did you get a chance to read what I sent you?