Living space on the right
three bedrooms on the left
down a long straight hall
The house is their ribcage
holds golden promises
diamond hard hope
and two children
I see the white door smudged
gray around the knob
where working hands push
Gold drapes hang on either side
of the bay window like the lungs
of my chain-smoking parents
This poem was sparked from a prompt to write about your childhood home. What do you remember about your childhood home? Can you see the kitchen in the morning sunlight, the living room at night, the front door, the bathroom sink?
We lived in the same home for about 16 years. I remember everything about it. I can see the layout in my mind. The gold carpet in the 70’s and the new blue carpet in the 80’s, the “modern” verticle blinds hung on the sliding glass door that opened to the long narrow backyard.
The next prompt I am exploring is describing a “childhood sanctuary”. Did you have a secret place away from the grown-ups, away from trouble that was your quiet place? What was in it, what did you do, what did it look like, how did it make you feel to be there, and what were you hiding from?
Hope you might be inspired to write your own childhood poem or a sanctuary poem. Happy writing! -Shannon