You ask,
in your persistent voice,
never missing a beat.
The questions
of when,
why,
and where
or perhaps,
how come.
What it must be like.
You aren’t entirely sure,
what it all means.
Or does it really matter?
Maybe through questioning,
or searching,
you will find reason
and begin to understand.
Or not.
You trail off
in tune,
humming the beat
to the infamous song on the radio
The song will continue to fill the air
until
you get bored.
You glance in my direction,
with knowing eyes
and ask
Mama, where’s the moon?
Before I can answer,
you let me know
it is hiding
and it will be back tomorrow.
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1 comment:
Kacie,
In particular, I like the structure of this poem. Given the simple speech of toddlers and parents communicating with them, your poetics here are a match; and, this works well for the poem. I imagine this was a conscious choice on your part, but not sure.
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