Painted house

Sept 1952,
dark hair-pulled back
big brown eyes,
barefooted
dull chestnut dress with Latin accent
those words, that I don’t understand
that plays a song in my mind
ever since you start chattering away
your angelic smile, warms my cheek

school break
the season begins-cotton picking
the cotton was over our head,
we disappeared among the tall stems
into our small world,
with our own 10 years fairytale
Fun playing, resting near the barn,
watching Pappy’s laborer
drape sacks behind them
hands moving swiftly through stalks
tearing off the bolls

standing on top of Pappy’s trailer
surveying the field
an ocean of white snowflakes
blurring the world for a moment
bouncing on trailer, covered with snowy mounds
the season ended
school started
you left with your nomadic family
to earn in a new place
you left,
with a promise
You’ll meet me on the next cotton picking season

inspired by the painted house