Crossing the Road
Small schoolgirl stands
at the kerb,
looking left, right,
and left again.
Cars and trucks
from both directions
stream past her.
She doesn’t move.
There are, here,
no crossing lights,
no painted stripes
on the road.
The little girl
stands still, looking
back and forth …
begins to cry.
Written as an example of Realism, for Weekly Scribblings #89 at Poets and Storytellers United.
I did my best to look from the outside and describe only what could be apprehended with the senses (while hoping those details would convey more) – but this was something I 'saw' from memory, in my mind's eye. The little girl was, once upon a time, me.
This is a lovely biographical piece. After reading i just wanted to give thst little girl a hugh
ReplyDeleteMuch💖love
She would have appreciated that!
DeleteAnxiety reflected in this sad poem.
ReplyDeleteYes, I think I was probably quite an anxious child.
DeleteSo very real, Rosemary. Surely, I think, there will be a Good Samaritan to help her across soon.
ReplyDelete..
In fact, I think that is what happened eventually. Or maybe some other people came and crossed at the same point and I went with them. The dilemma is more memorable than its solving.
Deletep.s. A note for you. Mine might belong in an agricultural magazine that farmers read. It is quite common that a mother critter cannot feed her babies, or all of them. Farmers work around this (I grew up on a farm). Calves have a bucket with a nipple on the bottom, sheep have bottles, pigs find a foster mother, and so on. Yes, and I know we should write so that our work will stand alone without a photo, they should be for illustrative use only.
ReplyDeleteBTW, when calves are weaned they often have to be taught how to drink. The technique is to place the calf's head into the bucket with milk, then with the hand not holding the head, place the index finger into the mouth and lower the mouth part into the milk. The calf will suck on the finger and get milk, then work the finger out of the mouth and the calf will start drinking. This may take several times for the calf to get the idea.
..
I did eventually work out it was something like that – but I certainly didn't have such a wealth of lovely detail; thank you.
DeleteA poignant example of realism, Rosemary. That little girl certainly overcame her timidity!
ReplyDeleteIn some ways. I am still a bit of a sook about various physical challenges. (Height phobia, water phobia....)
DeleteThe world can look really big and scary to a small child. A lot of us forget that when we become adults.
ReplyDeleteWhat was worse was that many other kids of my age didn't seem to be so scared, so I felt like a freak as well. But, time passed and things did get easier (smile).
DeleteLove the innocent peek at a frightening episode. A reality for a small girl when it happened. Thank her lucky stars nothing untoward happened. You were a brave little darling, Rosemary, Ma'am!
ReplyDeleteHank
Aw, thank you, Hank!
DeleteI'm with Cressida, the sadness is palpable. By the end, I wanted to jump into your poem and hug the little girl.
ReplyDeleteThat would have been so welcome!
DeleteSounds like how I feel trying to get on an escalator heading down! My sense of balance is a bit precarious. I try to find an elevator instead, or to limp down the stairs.
ReplyDeleteI always do a double-take when I see "kerb" spelled with a K. In the US, it's spelled "curb."
I probably cocked the prompt up, but I gave it my worst.
Down escalators scare me too! But I have earned to hold both sides on the way down, and be ready to step off smartly as soon as possible.
DeleteTo me,'curb' means to stop or limit something. I am often surprised by American spelling, and also pronunciation.
Rosemary, this is a wonderful example of realism in poetry ...
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Helen.
Delete