She placed me upon the pink carousel pony.
And told me to hold on.
A vision against the greying skies
Her pale blue dress
And soft hair blowing
As I bounced up and on
Up and on.
I didn’t know when or how long it had been that her face faded from my sight.
I searched and tried not to call out.
Strong little girls don’t ever do.
Alas, the tears, the cursed tears
Burst and ran amok down my skin.
She wasn’t there.
She wasn’t here.
I clung on to whoever it was that was holding me.
Was she she ever coming back?
Good girls should never think that.
What’s what my mummy always told me
When I was 3.
Inspired by Meredith in Grey’s anatomy. 🙂