Paper dolls..sour lemonade..

Today at dversepoets.com we are writing about childhood memories...a huge realm of subject matter..

Young girls played in rows 

of Ladies' Mantel..
smelled of new hay and squealed
high soprano C

     rose lips pursed.. pretending to be movie stars

They wore hand sewn dresses..

played 'neath cedar trees

..ran barefoot..made mud pies...

played hopscotch 

in the same field where they caught 

grasshoppers in jars..

They drew pictures of horses...plucked daisy petals

They wound pastel ribbons 'round the 

maypole in May while 

the piano played

...gained many a skinned knee..

jumping rope..climbing high bars..

Among their best pastimes..
 cutting paper dolls..sharing a sleeping bag..
learning to tie knots..balancing on
a sunbeam..pushing each other high
on a swing..swooning to 45's
wearing mom's heels, dressing up
..making brownies..
running long and faaaar
They thought they might be dancers 

in the Royal Ballet..

even Miss America
..but the wrong way signs

pointed to factories..

where they ironed firm pleats 

with dry steam

...no longer wishing on stars

Others folded diapers..

being still a teen....already daughters

of faulty design..

they were not meant to be amid bridesmaids

who flocked to the beaches 

of Bordeaux

..not to mention no accolades from an

Alma mater

Had they known from 

the beginning...that the pattern was set..

that their deep scars..

left by mixed messages and

conditional love they trusted,

would impede them, 

they would have rebelled..ranted and raved

They would have had the power..

..and would have denied the sour

lemonade...

they had they been fed 

from the start