A Story for Badger

by Justine C. Tajonera

Before your sister was born
you loved to read four books:
one was about fuzzy yellow ducklings,
another one was about apples
up on a dog, a tiger and a lion,
another one was about a kitten
named Kate
and one was about a very busy
spider.

And this, this letter I am
writing you,
it will be a story too,
one I'll tell you when
you're older.

Life, you will discover
is a string of stories
that we tell each other,
holding us back
or taking us further.

And while I want to hold
back the steady stream
that makes us both older
only so I can watch you longer

I stitch my thoughts
into this story,
one of the many in
our tapestry,
so that it can fold
around us at bedtime,
wherever we are,
giving us good dreams
night after
night.

(August 6, 2010)

Confession

by Justine C. Tajonera

I'm sorry for raising
my voice,
leaving you to yourself
as I complain
about my aching
back.

When you spilled
the carton of milk
on the floor
I hardly recognized
myself,
a witch with a
mop,
wailing.

You won't remember,
perhaps,
when you are all
grown up.

Or that is what
I hope.

In the meantime,
come over here,
let me
begin
again.


For Badger
(March 26, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/haldiroflorien/352232070/

Child's Play

by Justine C. Tajonera

We played a game we invented,
a sort of football with a water-filled
green balloon on a Saturday morning
in the swimming pool.

Badger shrieked with delight
and we were three kids
throwing around
a wobbly, green ball.

There were other kids like:
Callista, Seth and
John.
And we all talked
excitedly about
tossing and catching
a yellow balloon
and racing a couple
of orange matchbox
cars.

And there's no such thing
as forgetting how
to play.
It's the only thing
that's worth
doing
full-out.

(Feb. 15, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaibara/3518861937/