For a Child of 1918

My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
"Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet."

We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather's whip tapped his hat.
"Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day."
And I said it and bowed where I sat.

Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
"Always offer everyone a ride;
don't forget that when you get older,"

my grandfather said. So *****
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a "Caw!" and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?

But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when ***** whistled he answered.
"A fine bird," my grandfather said,

"and he's well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he's spoken to.
Man or beast, that's good manners.
Be sure that you both always do."

When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people's faces,
but we shouted "Good day! Good day!
Fine day!" at the top of our voices.

When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required.

as she looks in the mirror
she can't recognize herself anymore
her reflection
is slowly changing into someone new
someone she doesn't want to be

they say "I wish I had your body"
but all she ever saw were calories
and she stopped eating

they ask "why are you always sad?"
but they don't believe in
trauma and depression
and she keeps breaking

they say "you can trust me"
but they also say that r*pe
and abuse is her fault
and she keeps quiet about it

she would change
everything about herself
if she could

because one girls dream is
another girls nightmare

and everything they do is judge her

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
of sunshine beaches and cigarette smoke,
and the fact we almost kissed,
it’s a train track by our caravans,
covered in dusty mist,
it’s the fact you taught me swear words,
when we were just pre teens,
you call me one of them teasingly,
I can’t be offended if I don’t know what it means

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
of crashing waves and salty skies,
legs dangling, sat on the wall,
and eating fish and chips,
feeling the air outside of a car window,
with just my fingertips,
a summer soundtrack made,
just to relax on an old cd you mixed

it’s afternoons like this that make me reminisce,
what it would have been like if we did,
or had, touched each other’s lips,
but your little sister then sat between us on the bench, and I guess it was too early anyways,
you were twelve and I was ten

If I gave you my soul,
would you read each page?
Scribble notes of interest
and know me.
Would you take the time,
to help tape the seams?
Would you mend,
the fragility of my soul?
It tears and rips,
easily, emotionally.