Collecting
Coming into this world
someone inked my feet
placed them on a birth certificate
proof, of my identity.
When I was just a baby
I was put on my first pony
I cried when it was over
I had my first love affair.
Blank, like the paper in front of me
I was given a rainbow in a box
I crayoned my world with colors
no one could stop me.
Playing outside in the alley
I searched through the gravel
finding a glittering diamond
delighted, I pocketed it.
Starting school I learned to read
the Adventures Of Dick And Jane
outgrowing toys I picked up books
I started to write my own stories.
I fell in love with a wonderful man
we got married under an azure sky
after 20 long years we parted ways
the sorrow of that never left me.
I found a silver thimble when my father died
a professional wrestler, he embroidered
matadors, bulls and flowers on satin
it was too big for my finger.
One by one these memories I hoard
a collection of recollections of times reflected
a life spent experiencing every milestone
continuing until death will come to collect me.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2016
Written with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and dVerse~Poets Pub.
Memories.. yes.. Milestones
to collect.. Milestone more..
preSent
now..:)
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I love this. Love all these collections (I remember the wonder of a new box of crayons, so well.)
There is so much spoken (and unspoken) in this line: “it was too big for my finger.”
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In our own memories, we share so much with each other’s without always realizing it. I’m so glad you liked it thank you!
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I love your collection of memories; I have my footprints on my birth certificate too, Bekkie. Somehow the contrast of your wrestling father loving to embroider was very touching. I can imagine that his thimble would be way too big for your finger. Very touching…thanks for sharing.
Gayle ~
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Thanks Gayle I still have some of that embroidery and I found it amazing that he would have a hobby like that myself. The thimble sits on the table next to me right now.
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That’s very sweet.
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When I was just a baby
I was put on my first pony
I cried when it was over
I had my first love affair.
you had me there
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Ah, thanks Suyash Jha, most little girls love ponies don’t they?
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Memories written are no longer memories. They are a history preserved. Thanks for this, Bekkie.
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You are so right Walt! Thanks for stopping by.
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Memories are the very best thing to collect, and what a rich collection you have shown us here. The silver thimble stanza brought tears to my eyes.
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Thank you Kelly my dad passed in 1990 way too early and the thimble sits on the table next to me.
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Such a fine tapestry you’ve learned to weave in your own way.
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Nice to have you stop by Brendan!
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You are lucky to have such a variety of rich memories. Love the poem and your image – both beautiful. Marie
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I like to animate for a hobby I’m glad you like it. Thanks so much!
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lovely, poignant poem Bekkie!
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Coming from you that means a lot thanks so much Melinda!
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You’re welcome 🙂
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It’s nicely written, Bekkie. I don’t know how much if any is you. Not everything that I write is me.
I like the progression. I am too old for footprints on my birth certificate, my first prints were for a security clearance in the Army. This time for my drivers licence was the last time so far.
I also liked the rainbow in a box with you to fill the rest. My youngest granddaughter’s first Cat drawing is posted today on my other blog. In the comment, name Jim.
..
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My other blog, “Jim’s Little Blog.”
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This is very personal they are all my memories. My father was a wrestler he was Tag Team Champion of the MIdWest in his time. He passed in 1990. I try to incorporate myself in all of my work but I don’t always do it either. When I was born they also put baby beads on my wrist that spelled out my last name. I still have them and made a necklace out of them.
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Oh we do indeed save up quite a collection of memories, good and bad… we learn and develop… really like the tone of your poem Bekkie… Nice to see you at dVerse.
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Thanks for your warm welcome Bjorn! Memories are precious!
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