Poetry – Footie, I am 6

Originally posted May 16, 2018.

Dedicated to Jo, my mom


Footie, I am 6


I once thought life was an exciting adventure.

I stretch both arms up to the bright sun, in a green grassy field, laughing & reaching for a butterfly…



I look in the mirror.

Who is that face?

Death slowly reclaims me to the grassy field.



I once loved to wear backless high heels and pink lipstick, clickety-click.

I’m in a large ballroom, my gown is tight and shiny. I wiggle and dance to the music..the foxtrot…laughing…the room is crowded with people I know…



Past images seen through a misty glass…



You’re in the room. I hug you, I sense how we once were, how we are now.

But when you’re not here, you fade.

And I fade, too.

You hold together the collage of my self.

When I am alone, the collage shifts around.



I once traveled the world, so exciting and new, open-eyed. What I know about today, is the way the sun dapples on the carpet through

the window, how a bird comes to the feeder to eat and

the trees stand tall and green.



I know I won’t know you, soon.

Fear and disappointment course through me.

What’s this unnatural thing? I want it to stop.



Sometimes I wake, the night is frightening. I see creatures in the shadows. They are alive and moving towards me. I cower and rage against the dark monsters.



Other times I wake, my emotions crowd me.

Fleeting sparkling pictures flickering. I strain to see. But

they slip away. I’m afraid of tomorrow.



I felt safe in my home in the storm.

Don’t you love me enough to take me into your home?

Am I not loved? Am I not a person who….should be loved?

I am careful with my feelings.

I learn to be stored away, out of sight.



I once looked towards the future, anticipating exhilarating adventure.



This is my doggie, his name is Footie.

I love him. I am 6.

Mama, do you see Footie? Mama, let’s rub his one white foot. Mama, he has one white foot! Mama, see! Mama, I love him.



When you bring my little dog to visit, I hold him.

When I hold him, the memories come back. I remember what it’s like to have him. I want to walk him.

When you leave, I can’t remember the color of his fur.

Can I keep him here? I am 92.

He’d protect me from the dark shadowy creatures that come in the night.



Life disappoints me.

It’s not a daring adventure. I once looked forward to every sunny day. Now every sunny day shows me what I am not.