Inner Child

I should have loved you more back then

when forehead furrows wanted seeds,

squinting eyes needed hugs to see,

wrinkled nose craved sweetness and cake.

None of our books showed how to love

self quietly without the crowds

praising grades and performances—

You couldn’t do it by yourself.

But now, let me reach in to say

you were awesome! and you still are—
I hear the earth turning from you

and I write down secrets you hold.

You didn’t know then that you knew

secrets, that you depended on

gravel, trees and reindeer moss for

stories and sensuality.

But you were in training fields for 
our spirit to awaken—and 
dirt, dolls, climbing trees and dress up 
expanded our Golden Book tales.

Posted for my prompt at 
Poets United Midweek Motif  ~ Children's Books.

Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

Dad's Day

Mom and Dad in 2012 in Cincinnati

The knight in fine armor who guarded my
childhood never owned a horse but went from
city streetcar to countryside Dodge coupe
when he married my mother and began
to plant crops that continue to grow strong.

Hey Dad, how are you?   We call and without
fail, he answers: Grumpy, Mean, Ornery.

All is well. He may be bruised from a fall
but he mows the lawn, smokes his one-pipe-a-
day on the porch, gossips with friends and guards
the neighborhood while continuing to
check his crops once weekly, guardian still.

Happiness! Children, grandchildren, in-laws
and new great grandchild—all return his love.

                   Posted for Poets United Poetry Pantry #205

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Copyright © 2014  S.L.Chast