“What the heck is this?”
I heard her shout behind me, shattering
the silent glow of my nascent creative self.
She caught me just as I closed
the right-ventricle point of the heart
I drew with a purple crayon
on the wall in the family room.
“But, Mommy,” four-year old me said,
“don’t you think it’s pretty?”
She didn’t see the need to make the beige wall
not such a bore
I guess because her life had become
After Mom marched me to my room,
I wiped my nose and
was glad I never completed
this artistic tribute.
She’ll be sorry, I thought.
I never got the chance
to write inside my heart,
in red this time,
– Joseph Hesch
© 2016, poem, Joseph Hesch, All rights reserved