When I Was Young In Cuba MAG

March 14, 2012
By lilyacosta BRONZE, Ormond Beach, Florida
lilyacosta BRONZE, Ormond Beach, Florida
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

When I was young in Cuba,
I would stay up late
and wait for my grandfather
to bring me a midnight snack:
either fresh bread with butter,
rare candies, or a surprise!

He would come walking down the street.
Once I could make out his shadow
from my seat on the curb in front of my house,
I'd run to him and leap into his arms.

When I was young in Cuba,
the streets were my kingdom
and I was the queen.
Everyone knew who I was.

“Look, there goes Lili”
They would laugh
as I ran around the corner
from my babysitter's house to my grandma's,
in only a clothespin-fastened towel,
to get dressed.

When I was young in Cuba,
I'd sit in the Catholic pews with my grandma,
wearing my Sunday best:
a puffy lacy dress, a matching bow, and shiny Mary Janes.

They'd call me an old lady
because I appeared to be listening intently.
I would never cry, nor giggle, nor speak
when service was going on.

When I was young in Cuba,
I could safely run around,
happy, free, and young.

When my dad gave me two dollars,
I knew it was my cue to run down the street
and pick up cigarettes for him
from the old man that made them at his house.

When I was young in Cuba,
I thought I had it all.
I was happy, surrounded by love, and free to fly,
and that was all that mattered.

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