Often my poems come from something going on in my own life. This poem comes from my childhood.
I had two brothers and myself me being the youngest, so I stayed at my grandmothers house more then the boys, they were in school.
I did stay in my uncles bedroom. It was in the early forty’s. My uncle joined the army. He was a young single man where as my dad who was a little older had a wife and three little kids, me being about four. He also was called upon by the government but because of the wife, three kids, and flat feet, he didn’t qualify for service.
Unlike today where grandparents have a bedroom set aside for their grandbaby’s, filled with toys, video games, TV’s and computers.
In my day my grandparents saved the Sunday funny papers for us. My grandpa had a couple of puzzles up on the closet shelf that he brought down when I came for a weekend and he always bought me Neapolitan ice cream. There you have it !
I brought my doll, jump rope, and a coloring book with my box of crayons.
Their was a white house right next to my grandparent house and it did have blue shutters on the windows.
I did sit on the edge of my uncles bed looking out my bedroom window at the window in that house, all of this is true.
The part I made up was that their actually was a child in that other house in the window, there wasn’t.
That of course was my imagination, which I had a big one. It use to make my mother very angry.
I always was getting into trouble at school for “daydreaming”.
My grandparents did live in a neighborhood with very fine houses and older well established people residing in them.
There were no other kids on that block.