Something Creative From The Past

I was cleaning out my desk yesterday and found a poem I wrote over forty years ago. It was prompted by this picture, one I found by accident as I was looking for visuals to use for school.

There was something about it that called out to me… something that made me want to speak for the child. I imagined him clinging to his Mother at a moment of true crisis in his innocent life. Look at his face one last time, then read his words to her, below

Something’s wrong, Mommy…
Today I wheeled my wagon down the street
To see my white-haired friend the paper man,
(the one who’s old like Grandpa).

He’s always waiting, Mommy…
Sitting on his box inside the paper fort,
Smiling and humming and nodding,
Feeding his little gray kitty from the dish with the piece
missing.

Everyday he waits for me, Mommy…
I talk to him about my friends and toys.
He never says a lot (that’s ‘cause he’s old),
Just smiles and hums, and puts his funny hand on my head
while I tell him things.

He’s my very best old friend, Mommy…
Every day he waits for me to visit him,
And when he sees me coming with my wagon
He smiles and nods, and hums and waits.

But something’s wrong, Mommy…
Today the fort was empty,
And no matter where I looked I couldn’t see my friend.
He wasn’t sitting on his box, waiting and smiling and humming.

I know something’s wrong, Mommy…
My friend has never missed a visit,
And I’m sure he wouldn’t go someplace and leave his kitty.
It was crying in the fort, and the dish with the piece missing
was empty.

Where’s my best old friend, Mommy?…
Does he know I came to visit?
Does he know his kitty is crying?
Something’s wrong, Mommy… our fort is empty.

© 2010