My Little world

I posted this picture the other day and a friend challenged me to write about it. Thanks, Melinda. Here is what I came up with. 

Also, if you didn't read yesterday's post, my sister thinks that is where a future book lives for me. I think it's just where my trauma lives. ;)

My Little world,

in plastic hooves with plastic eyes,

has experienced the joy

of a brown eyed girl

with curly hair.

Her curiosity

and creativity

and dedication

was nothing short of

love. 

Her small hands,

browned from the sun

and dirt,

held us 

and galloped us

around many worlds.

And then the basketball

found her hands.

And the keyboard.

And her husband. 

And she was too busy

dribbling

and writing

and caressing

to take us on adventures. 

We were shared with 

other little hands,

but they never really loved us

quite like she could. 

Then one day she took hold

again.

She cleaned and brushed,

with the same care

she once did.

Her hands were larger, 

yet more gentle somehow. 

And in her eyes we saw 

the sparkle. 

And she handed us to

some smaller hands,

the shade of brown familiar.

But it was the eyes,

the same brown-black,

filled with that spark and

sense of wonder

that let us know

we had found our way home.