When I was a girl
Everything was make believed.
I traveled the world and the moon followed me.
My father was Dali and my Ma a Martha.
Music always played and food was of abundance.
I would wrestle with my sister.
Spend hours lost in my books.
When I was younger,
somehow everything seemed good.
Weekend lunches at my grandma’s.
Swim weekends that I loved.
Ma’s Friday western dinners.
The smell of my father’s aftershave on my cheeks.
Everything was rosy peaches.
Everything was made believe.
Everything was true.
My make believe friend was Valerie she looked a lot like me.
I rode, I swam and flew like the wind and conquered the 7 seas.
I kept my secrets in volumes of 4 and labelled them Dear Diary I to IV.
Everything was so wonderful.
Everything was sweet.
Everything had seemed as it should be. Would be.