Notebook (Poetry Prompt 2015, edit 1)

Writing Prompt: Imagined Future, Flashback, and Present Moment

Poem titled, “Notebook”

Imagined Future:

she calls Mommy;
our child.
Blue eyes wide,
excited.
Small fingers gripping
the fabric of my skirt as she
tugs me towards the back door in
the kitchen of our
house.

My laughter is soft,
drowned out by her
squeals as she
lets go and runs
to the spot
you are kneeling in;
eyebrows scrunched in
careful contemplation as you
hold a small booklet in one hand and
a beam for the swing set in
the other.

she jumps, claps her hands,
and asks if Daddy is done yet
so Mommy can watch her swing.
You look up and your eyes
take her in,
and you beam brightly
in love
with her innocence;

your eyes flicker
to my own
and your beaming smile
softens
to a small quirk
of your lips
– that knowing, secret smile
only for me –
in love
with the smile
i’ve reserved
for you;
all this
on the background
of green, luscious grass
framed by white
fence picketts.

Flashback:

You ask me to follow you,
and I say yes.
My prom dress,
red and shimmering
barely noticed
as it slips through
the side gym door.

As we walk, I think about my date
inside, and I wonder why
you never asked to
whisk me away sooner,
and I ask,
but you become nervous,
bashful.
The answer doesn’t matter much then,
because I know you would have,
even though you didn’t.

You lead us to the parking lot
to your car,
your blue eyes meeting mine in question.
My fingers grip the handle, and I
slide into the passenger seat.

The drive is silent.
I know where we are going.
To the empty field we used
to share our dreams.
Ignition killed,
you ask me to wait,
as you leave and come to my side,
door opening as you
hold out your hand,
which I take.

You keep my hand clasped in yours as
you lead us.
I lace my fingers through your own.

I know where we are going.
To the tree where
we’ve carved our names
in promise.
When we make it,
you kneel,
pull a small box out your
dress pant pocket,
and reveal a small necklace
holding tenderly
a lone diamond.
Your eyes beseech mine
– another question –
and I nod.

When you clasp the necklace
around my neck,
I let you turn my lips to yours;
then later,
I let you take my virtue.

Present Moment:

It’s raining.
A black umbrella keeps me from
the soaking cold.
A black dress frames my skin.
Your mother clutches my hand,
and sobs on my shoulder.
The diamond on my finger
digs into my skin
as vows never spoken;
as vows silenced by the sound
of the Bishop sending out a prayer.

copyright Marie Meyers, 2016

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