Popsicle kisses
bubble-gummed hair
summer picnics at the beach
life free from care.

Long fun-filled rides to Grandma’s
short sleepy rides back
a warm fluffy kitten
 big shaggy dog named Max.

Church on Easter morning
pink ribbons on my hat
sitting next to Mommy
behind that silly boy named Pat.

Growing up and pretty
is what the older folks say
I start to believe them
my hips gain a sway.

Some of the boys like me
Dad says too young to date
out with the girls only
have fun, be home by eight.

Four years of college
honors, gold tassel and all that
they still think I spend too much time
with that silly boy named Pat.

Bouquet of white roses
a long flowing veil
Mother looks so lovely
but more than a tad pale.

Father's trembling arm offered
hiding tears behind his smile
all my dreams waiting
at the end of the aisle.

The kids drive him crazy
one more is on the way
they bother their Daddy
sends them outside to play.

Not enough money
too many bills piling up
he just sits there staring
into his half-empty cup.

Four kids and now no husband
says he'll never be back
what kind of fool would ask
if I would help him pack.

Whatever will I tell the kids
when I don’t understand
I wonder for just how long
he has had this planned.

Our love was his safe place
he no longer cares about that
screw him, who cares, Daddy’s right,
He’ll always be just a silly boy named Pat.

© Marcia MillerTwiford