30 Days Of Jaye: No More Jump Rope

The rhythm over bare feet

Was always easiest, with

My grandmother’s warm brick

Backyard underneath, as her

Black lab watches, panting,

Entertained by my efforts.

Steady hopping, as the speed

Increases as I remember how

Easy this was when I was smaller,

How nothing mattered save for how

I could perfect a trick while blowing

Green apple bubble gum.

Breath housed in the brown frame warm,

Ragged, stomach reminding me

It’s time for lunch.

Leaving the world of the 7-year-old,

Morphing into a woman, charged with

Grieving what time has made His own,

Reclaimed until the utter day of redemption

Of man.

There is no grandma to make rice,

No more dogs I roughed and tumbled with

No more cousins to chase,

No more balls to catch.

My favorite toy put away into

A backpack next to a bag familiar,

Similar to my mothers.

Instead to pink sneakers,

There are black ballet slippers,

A nod to the 7-year-old who loved

To dance.

As I look for keys, I heard my father’s voice

And remember, there is no Daddy to take me home.

Jennifer Bush (Harris), May 2011-personal canon/ English 3030