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               Carole-Lyn Catron

Daddy’s Girl, July 1983

Before the sun casts its shadowed arms, long
against summer sidewalks, you will have
forgotten me. An oversized suitcase filled
with high water corduroy hand me downs, threadbare T-shirts
and mementoes, hidden in a jacket lining from the last box
left of my mother will be my only comfort, once
you hand me a bag of regular M&M’s and change
from your twenty-dollar bill. Without a kiss or goodbye
you will turn and leave me,  your 12 year old daughter, standing
alone to wait for my time to board. I will have watched your short legs in old
denim and the back of your balding mullet fade into the crowd. A plane
will have sped down one runway at John Wayne Airport, whispering
to the wind of this neglected cargo.   And I will still
not be broken,


And you,
you will rush home on the 405 beating traffic
in your rebuilt Austin Healy, Bug Eyed Sprite convertible
Oldies will blast from a transistor radio
transferred from floor to still indented passenger seat
at a red light on Harbor Blvd. You will swear
at the driver who cuts you off, tap your grease stained fingers
against the welded shut door in tune to the Temptations
singing “my girl, talking ‘bout my girl..” You will take the corner too fast
at Beach Blvd. You will push the garage door button, just before
the sun casts its last shadowed arms, long
against the summer sidewalks, and you will have
forgotten me.  

© 2017 Carole-Lyn Catron 

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Jane in the Garden

 


She sits
in between the garden rows
blowing dandelion seeds
toward the cucumbers I just
replanted
She scrubs
black soil into fingers, feet
wiping more dirt
across her smiling mud masked
face
She steals
my heart at sunset
chasing fireflies in freshly mowed grass
laughing like wind in maple
leaves

© 2014 Carole-Lyn Catron  

Widowed


And today it rains, cold
Thunder threatens
to turn to storm
Mirrors my soul
But it snowed
The day you died
Just less than two weeks ago
And i missed spring
Or it passed me by
Only revealing a little beauty
A little color against a drab sky
Only a few warm days
Enough to rapidly
Grow grass
That i mowed
As i cried
Hoping the engine
Drowned my sobbing
As our children ran around
Laughing and barefoot
Sometimes
I think
We are just waiting
To wave
you home from work
And i smile
In anticipation
For just a blink...

 

© Carole-Lyn Catron

April 2019


In Autumn I planted tulip bulbs
Wished away winter
In anticipation of their arrival
Watched the Maples in our yard
For signs of budding leaves
Cursed every day 
That stayed gray
Anxious for spring
To cheer my soul
Warm my face
Bloom
But spring passed me by
And it snowed 
That day you died
April mocked my sorrow
Grief is a Midwestern tornado
Destroying with little warning
And still I take cover
From this slow-moving storm

© Carole-Lyn Catron

Carole-Lyn Catron started writing poetry due to travelling poets teaching in her 5th grade class in the early 1980's. It's been a part of so many phases of a full life from being a Motherless child, to surviving an abusive relationship, to the death of her beloved Husband Eric. She is a mother, grandmother and friend. Originally from the redwood forest, she now lives among the cornfields of Illinois.

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