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Write about a childhood memory.

Two Lives, Not One

Carole and I
         made paper dolls
from catalog models.
We'd cut them out
         then trace over the top
designing dresses.

We'd spend days together
         tracing, drawing,
creating our own fashion world.
         collaborating, giggling, sharing.
Colors and lines,
         flare and panache.

Then Carole got sick
         a week went by.
When she was well
she brought a bunch
         of sketches
she had done on her own.

How could she?
         Without me?
How did she?
         Without me.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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On 3/8/2020 at 4:10 PM, Tinker said:

Write about a childhood memory.

Two Lives, Not One

Carole and I
         made paper dolls
from catalog models.
We'd cut them out
         then trace over the top
designing dresses.

We'd spend days together
         tracing, drawing,
creating our own fashion world.
         collaborating, giggling, sharing.
Colors and lines,
         flare and panache.

Then Carole got sick
         a week went by.
When she was well
she brought a bunch
         of sketches
she had done on her own.

How could she?
         Without me?
How did she?
         Without me.
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Moments in our lives that we remember!!

I enjoyed your poignant poem: this unsettling event in your childhood. The (seeming) almost betrayal -- of your paper doll friendship!  It must have been hurtful indeed! You haven't forgotten it.

I enjoyed your measured way leading to the surprise last stanza.

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58 minutes ago, Liz Mastin said:

The (seeming) almost betrayal -- of your paper doll friendship!  It must have been hurtful indeed! You haven't forgotten it.

Thanks Liz,  I don't know about hurt but it was, I think, my first realization that the world did not revolve around me, that other peoples lives went on without me.  It had never occurred to me that Carole had a life beyond her time with me.  Clearly until then I had led a pretty selfish life and was the center of my own universe.  I don't have a lot of childhood memories, but this one stands out, I had to be 7 or 8 years old because I met Carole when I was 5, she lived 2 houses up from me on the corner of the block. When I was around 9 her parents had built a new house across the street and they moved there.  We used to make our paper dolls in the corner house in the playroom down stairs, not the house across the street. 

~~Judi

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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On 6/2/2018 at 11:51 PM, Tinker said:

Prompt for June 3 -  Write a story or poem about the time you went fishing but caught something that was definitely NOT a fish.

I wrote another version of a fish story, but this short poem actually preceded it. I could not bring myself to throw it away.

I Wish I Had Not Seen It

A murmur on the surface, then a magnificent splash,
It’s huge body was there briefly to see.
Then ringlets and ripples spread slowly on the water;
It’s enormous size was seen only by me.

Who will I tell when I get back home?
Will they believe me at the end of the day?
Who’s gonna’ believe this Ol’ Timers story,
About the big one that got away.

Robert G. Jerore
 

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