The Shutters

by

Dina Dinsmoor

I remember clearly how the shutters let the light in
playing in the closet of my youth
It was a tall closet
split in half
so as to allow proof
of its madjesty
while bowing to my small height

Sometimes it was a castle
for my dolls and I contained within
at other times it was a dungeon
Mother painted it a clean white every year
and the paint clung on
like the small carpentry repairs of my Fathers

And I clearly remember how the light shone thru the shutters

NEXT?
Why don't you look at The Marsh
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

To visit all of Dina Dinsmoor's poems, click HERE

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