My parents sold my barbie house;
At noon a car drove onto my street and a couple climbed out
their daughter following;

                 (Don’t be sad.)

She wore a pink shirt with long sleeves a sparkly skirt that glinted joyfully,
Her hair was long and unbrushed not yet touched by the world,
She stood as children usually do behind her parents
Shy and quiet and young;

                 (I’ll still be here when the birds sing and the flowers bloom.)

The sun was golden when I stood in the doorway,
It flickered and glowed and showered in the girl’s hair
So that when I looked back out to watch my childhood be loaded away through their car’s door,
My younger-self smiled back at me.

                   (I’m not over–I just moved on.)