Hey Dad, do you Remember, Me...?
Hey, dad, do you remember me...?
I remember 5am polaroids bleary-eyed,
banned from family affection
or how about those promises, empty
and longing cries inside the turtle’s chest
where I used to keep my childhood safe
and where I felt secure or when
I’d climb up hidden ledges in the closet
to feel snug while wiping sadness from the walls.
The only place I could etch my name
and be seen in the world in the wood
that held the house together.
Do you remember me dad...?
How I’d put my dreams in a little green box
screened by night
and I’d whisper into the clouds, everything
because the night was so silent and I,
was so sure I could be heard.
Do you remember, dad…?
Those long days in puddles on Ridgewood
hopping scotch; blue, pink, and yellow chalk
on the ground, on my fingertips.
How I'd ride down the big hill for mom’s tobacco
and milk and maybe, even steal a heart or two.
I remember, dad.. do you?
Do you remember those bad dreams
in waiting, for you, in waiting for my brothers
for family time because"little girls could get lost."
in waiting...
for your voice on the other end
in waiting...
by the door, the window, outside, looking
waiting...
in hopes and fears, in hoping
in waiting...
and waiting..
and waiting..
and waiting for you, dad
for you, waiting...
through each birthday passed
waiting...
through each year passed
waiting...
waiting..
waiting...
You see, I remember you, Dad…
I remember it all.
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 2017
Hey, dad, do you remember me...?
I remember 5am polaroids bleary-eyed,
banned from family affection
or how about those promises, empty
and longing cries inside the turtle’s chest
where I used to keep my childhood safe
and where I felt secure or when
I’d climb up hidden ledges in the closet
to feel snug while wiping sadness from the walls.
The only place I could etch my name
and be seen in the world in the wood
that held the house together.
Do you remember me dad...?
How I’d put my dreams in a little green box
screened by night
and I’d whisper into the clouds, everything
because the night was so silent and I,
was so sure I could be heard.
Do you remember, dad…?
Those long days in puddles on Ridgewood
hopping scotch; blue, pink, and yellow chalk
on the ground, on my fingertips.
How I'd ride down the big hill for mom’s tobacco
and milk and maybe, even steal a heart or two.
I remember, dad.. do you?
Do you remember those bad dreams
in waiting, for you, in waiting for my brothers
for family time because"little girls could get lost."
in waiting...
for your voice on the other end
in waiting...
by the door, the window, outside, looking
waiting...
in hopes and fears, in hoping
in waiting...
and waiting..
and waiting..
and waiting for you, dad
for you, waiting...
through each birthday passed
waiting...
through each year passed
waiting...
waiting..
waiting...
You see, I remember you, Dad…
I remember it all.
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 2017