6 Years Old (Day 16)

(Another day. More NaPoWriMo.)

“He told me he loves me,”

she remarked, matter-of-fact

as an accountant reciting tax law,

“last Wednesday” like an anniversary

as her mother and I choked

on surprise and amusement.

The boy folded a note and

slipped it into her mailbox

for her to find later, a

gesture of clumsy romance

more successful than 

my childhood efforts, 

judging by her giggles at

the mention of his name:


When asked if she responded

I love you, too, she smiled coyly,

“Not yet.  He can wait.”



About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in best-laid plans, family, poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s