4.20.17 When I Was Seven
~ a poem ~
When I was seven
I had a pink notebook,
even though I hated the color pink,
and still hate the color pink,
but I remember the Pepto Bismol pages
as if I still held them in my hands.
When I was seven
I had a pink notebook,
and in it I wrote my first poem
which of course was terrible.
No one finds their voice at seven.
I don’t even know if I have a voice now.
But they were words
that formed some sort of idea
that meant a lot to me.
When I was seven
I had a pink notebook,
and in it I wrote my first poem,
and showed it to my cousin Ella
who was my second cousin,
my great aunt’s daughter.
But she was near my Mom’s age, though.
Was more like a third parent.
So when the cancer came,
and I took her to chemo,
and helped her out of sweat wet clothes,
and buried her after bawling
after reading her obituary at the funeral,
I can’t just call her my cousin.
When I was seven
I had a pink notebook,
and in it I wrote my first poem,
and showed it to my cousin Ella
who read it
and loved it
and told me it was amazing.
I’ve been writing ever since.
Categorised as: Poem | Writing
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