Poetry

74. girls’ worlds

running with ribbons undone1

Girls’ rooms were always
sickly sweet,
their brightly colored walls
reeked of strawberries,
the woven linen on their beds
oddly reminiscent of springtime in the
parks.

Girls’ rooms were empires
boys should not have been
allowed into.
Their muddy shoes brought
forests into gardens
and mountains that had the
potency
to crush ice cream hills
or pierce
cotton candy clouds.

If there was a chance
for women to be girls again,
surely –
they would be more careful
of who they let into their
gift-wrapped worlds.

But then,
if girls could live as women for a day,
maybe they would find
the courage
to paint their white walls pink
(again)
and finally understand
that, really:

Gardens, forests,
hills and mountains

(even cotton candy clouds) –

aren’t what you measure childhood by.

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