SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘children’

Tiny Fingers

Tiny fingers

Fragile as twigs

Soft as feathers

Warm like the rising sun

Tiny fingers that fit inside of mine

Rub my cheek and arm

Tiny fingers I think

Could never cause harm

Tiny fingers

Curl up in sleep

As they twirl my hair

They wave to and fro

In goodbye and hello

They patty cake and roll

And often grab more than they can hold

They wipe away childish tears

Can’t quite hold back all their fears

Tiny fingers

Hold tight to kites and ice cream cones

And endlessly tug and pull at my heart

Tiny fingers smear paint across the page

They tighten and grip in a fit of rage

Tiny fingers that pinch and grab

And snap and clap to song

Tiny finger that race hot wheels

Through the sandbox all day long

Tiny fingers learn so much

Through the years and all they touch

Tiny fingers, all dimpled and pudgy

Oh, how I remember those tiny fingers

That somehow grew into the man you’ve become

Dancing On Angels Wings

Daddy’s drinking. Mama’s crying.

The child is praying for a world outside.

She just wants a way to escape

to find a safe place to hide.

 

Daddy slams the whiskey down

while Mama glances at the door.

The little girl runs to her bedroom

as she’s done many nights before.

 

Daddy’s swearing. Mama’s trembling.

The child wipes a tear from her eye.

Beneath her castle of covers

she feels like she is going to die.

 

Daddy kicks the dining room wall.

Mama takes off her wedding rings.

And the little girl became a princess

who dances on top of angels wings.

 

Daddy pours himself another glass,

and Mama slowly walks away.

The child is in a land of dreams

where she hopes she can stay.

 

Daddy’s head spins in thought.

The love in Mama’s heart is dying.

The child tries to hold it all inside,

these feelings she’s been denying

 

Daddy’s smoking. Mama’s cleaning

when the angels came for tea.

They take the child far away,

but she knows she won’t be free.

 

Daddy’s raging. Mama’s praying.

And the princess is flying high.

Daddy starts to settle down,

and Mama lets out a deep sigh.

 

Daddy’s drinking. Mama’s crying.

All are trapped by his disease.

So the child dances on angels wings,

living in a world of make believe.

Another

Thoughts

Blow in like rings of smoke

And drift off before they can be caught

Clinging to a prism of time

Tangled in all that never was

And all that will never be

Though she is just another patient

To yet another doctor

She is still your mother

And you will except no feeble excuses

In failed attempts to bring her back

On good days she remembers you as a child

Other times she thinks you are the maid

Or perhaps the sister of her childhood

And on the worst of days she screams

As if you are draining the blood from her veins

With no remorse

For the scrape upon her mind

She gets back up on her bike

And rides off into another day

Maybe years ago

When she was young and carefree

Or maybe a time to come

That only she can see

She looks past you when she smiles

As she chases butterflies in open fields

She picks daisies to pluck

The petals of love one by one

And when the ill winds rage

Against her guiltless soul

She pulls her tattered coat tightly

And softly fingers

The button-less holes

One Shot Wednesday

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