In our many travels from one Nevada mining town to
Another, we moved often, never staying long enough
In one place to make friends or stay in one school long
Enough to be able to learn, but the very basics that
Children need, to have a regular schedule, regular meals,
A stable environment, was not available to us. Our mother
Was a different kind of source, as I put it in words of one
Of my books written on our experiences
“Our Mama loved us the best she could, everywhere she
Went we went too, taking us for a ride over hills, bumps and
Ridges, the circuit of our travels were telling a story one that
Unraveled in time”
>~~~
Little toy people playing
In their home, pretending
They are happy, but
Feeling all alone.
Toy mother and father,
Playing their rolls, they
Can see out but no one
Can see in.
Little toy furniture, a bed
And couch, no one could
Rest, too much noise and
Commotion.
There is no table or cupboards,
For there is no food, the little
Tea set is shattered along with
The child.
We get in the little toy car and
Move right along, from place to
Place, but we won’t stay long,
Stopping here and there, just
In case.
I have hung onto my memories,
It is all I know, too scared to let
Them go, searching for a home,
For one that evades this child
Who plays the role in the little
Toy house.
Copyright (c)Donna Nieri 2015
Donna's Poetry Blog 