For my creative writing class, we had to write a poem focusing on diction. So here's mine, as inspired by this picture my dad sent me a few weeks ago:
Once, long ago
A little girl lay curled on her daddy’s chest.
She holds a baby doll; he holds the girl close.
My daddy is asleep on our old brown couch,
Glasses still on – it is probably a Sunday
And we are taking an afternoon nap.
But I am not sleeping, my eyes are open
Dark brown and thoughtful.
He can’t be very comfortable
Holding me, a doll, and a blanket,
My golden curls over his nose.
In that moment, nothing mattered.
I was his baby girl, and he was my hero.
Strong, tall, with dark hair just as curly as mine.
I told him everything, then,
About school, my books, my toys.
I ran to greet him when he came home every day
He would let me climb up his legs, holding my hands,
And help me flip over in a certain way.
But I grew up, and sometimes I missed those days,
And yet
Last week I watched him fall asleep,
My nephew, his grandson, curled up on his chest
Both of them asleep. He never lets that little boy go.
And I thought things I should have known:
I watched him let all four of his children fly away,
Give the care of two of his daughters to strange young men
And shake his son’s hand as he became a husband.
I am his only one left, and I too am on new wings
And someday I will no longer be in his care.
But I know a new little one will take my place curled there,
My sister’s son,
And future girls and boys
Who will run to greet their grandpa when he comes.
They will grasp his hands, climb his legs,
And he will flip them over in a certain way.
