i used to sing in my bedroom

&i was happy beyond all reason
beyond all crabgrass &homemade curtain
with bits-o-honey saved back on my shelf
farrah fawcett’s teeth were smiling at me

i was a horse with a mop for a mane
jumping puddles &jumping real hurdles
i practiced a hook shot over and up
and when it’s best to leap off from a swing

i raked the untouchable skies back then
i had no reason to think of the sea
with peas &carrots on brown china plates
thoughts on a ceiling; free-floating as dreams

and yes actually, i had a tree
with bendy branch for an elevator
above dad’s pompas grass &blue fescue
my bones willed themselves to be un-broken

i could go /toe-to-toe/ in /tic-tac-toe/
with anne murray or helen of ready
spinning their gold upstairs in my room
i was happy &little bit heady

[linking with Poets United & Poetic Asides]

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25 thoughts on “i used to sing in my bedroom

  1. Absolutely beautiful! This is a reminiscence I could completely relate to, although you sounded far more athletic than I. My favorite bit:
    “thoughts on a ceiling; free-floating as dreams.” Seemingly effortless brilliance. Loved dis. – mosk

  2. Good golly! What a happy trip! The details brought me along memory lane with books and music and trees and all. I felt nostalgia for that level of energy and the way it all fits together like in song. DId we know we were happy then? Love this.

    1. No, Susan, we did not know we were happy then. I thought about this because my daughter says she is not happy! But she has a wonderful childhood. I think you just have to look back upon it to see it.

      1. She will see, when the bones and boughs break (metaphorically) what magic was. … but I wish her just to be happy always.

  3. Im glad you shared about your daughter for mine too says some of the happiest times (for our family) were misery. It’s not the sugar that makes the lemonade sweet it is the memory of the icy cold freshness.
    (and you have inspired a poem for me 🙂

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