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Thursday, Dec. 13, 2018 12:01 am

Friend’s poem: Little Treasures

 Friend’s poem: Little Treasures

A quiet morning. Just the sound of the fan
and the ticking of the clock. Both comfort.
You ask of childhood treasures. I think back,
I see a walking doll. A dictionary. A partial set
of encyclopedias. Paper and pencils. Discarded
paper sacks to draw on. Imagined houses
in a friendly neighborhood.

A jar of flashing lightning bugs. That’s all
I remember. Except jacks and a ball. I’d sit
hours on the sidewalk and play jacks. I was good.
Old Montgomery Ward catalogues fascinated me.
I’d cut out furniture and people and pretend
they were my home and family and friends.

And then the J.C. Penney violin I continued to
play a year after being taken from my teacher.
But little treasures? Trinkets? I don’t recall any.
I never had a room of my own. I did finally
have a bed of my own when I was 12 or 13.
And a big donated teddy bear I’d put on the edge
of the breezeway bed to keep me safe as I slept.

I traveled light in those days.

This poem is by Patricia Ann Hartsfield Martin, from
a forthcoming book of essays and poems.

©2018 Jacqueline Jackson


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