Share   Print  Save   Become a Fan

A poem written through the eyes of a young girl growing up in the 1930's-1940's. This is one of my most favorite poems yet.

I used to use my sister's dolls to act out my whole life
To show that I could be mature,
those feelings that had seemed so pure

So untained and foolish I was back then
Now I see it was all played up
That reality,
nothing more than guns and war
Was not a desired place to be,
a punishment more than a treat
I want to just be me

To be myself,
a young child again
Climbing in the trees
Drinking lemonade,
and entering those town parades

To have not a care to unfurl,
to be myself,
in my own world
Those dolls that were only pretend
Didn't account for the twists and bends,
that actuality bring

I play house never more
only work and toil with my chores
A house-wife I am just to be,
not myself,
not at all me

What a child I am, you say?
This is work, not child's play.