The Floor
By Kate Troxell
When I was a baby,
My mother set me down
On a blanket, soft and blue,
Cushioning the ground:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Happy to the core.
Something, someone,
Sitting on the floor
Then, just four years later,
My mother set me down,
But I did not stay there,
I got up and ran around:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Running through the door.
Something, someone,
Running on the floor.
Then, many years later,
I was a very old man,
Hobbling across the floor,
With a cane in my hand:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Hobbling still more.
Something, someone,
Hobbling across the floor.
Then one day I fell,
Never to arise,
And there I lay,
Seeing nothing from my eyes:
Not seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Not wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Not being anymore.
Nothing—just nothing,
Lying on the floor.
Please tell me what you think!
That was reaaly good Kate!
ReplyDeleteI like it, I'm not sure about the "not being anymore. Nothing.." part. I mean even when someone is dead they are still something, their body still was theirs even if it is separate now from their spirit. I'm not sure how I would do it any different though, you did great. I really like the concept of everything starting from the floor.
ReplyDeleteFarrah (Jacynne's mom)
I liked it. The first part got my attention and I was a little sad at the end.
ReplyDeleteI thought the poem was great. Kind of sad, but that sounded just like life.
ReplyDelete