I remember some childhood
Dressing up
And having about one tooth in the front
Eating popsicles
Picking daisies
And having braids cover every inch of my scalp
But somewhere in the midst of living
I grew
Out of clothes
And friends
And princess birthday parties
And barbies
I stopped skipping down the sidewalk
And started walking
I stopped keeping time and started
Telling it
I just stopped being a kid
Because I had to
That was second grade
When daddy got sick
When ambulances came
And momma cried
And I had to go live somewhere else
That part of my life is like a train station
It’s like people came and went everyday
And you didn’t really know anyone
Unless someone friendly sat down beside you
Life was dark if I remember right
Nine eleven
Daddy’s surgery
And the emptiness
Every day
And night
And month
Yes I remember being lonely
And scared
And relying on prayer
Like food and air
As it was necessary for me to carry on
I remember my childhood
That lasted way too short of a time
Because there are not enough memories
For them to run together