The Candy Train

 

on the please-come-in door

a bright brass knocker

and stained glass birds

rainbows on the walls

when the sun casts through

 

a dark scrolled shelf

hangs high in the hall

gleaming with candlesticks

cats dogs monkeys

and a clear glass train

its engine

full of coloured candy beads

glowing like jewels

 

up the stairs to bedtime

footsteps slow

wide eyes through curly bars

the locomotive’s belly bulging

with candy coveted

tongue tingling flavours

denied

 

two years old is little - so very very little -

as the sugar beads shine

forbidden

sweet bright treasure

beloved of the sister who has died of cancer

only seven

a candy shrine to the first daughter

her presence constant

big burden for a very little girl

who understands more

than the grownups can ever imagine

who with all her heart wants the candy

to suck

one bead at a time

 

then comes the day

Daddy opens the glass locomotive

and Mother asks: which one

the little girl whispers: red

cinnamon

the taste is cinnamon

which she doesn’t much like

but orange yellow and green are delicious

soon the jewels are gone

the engine just an ornament

on the shelf in the hallway

with rainbows on the walls

                   ...

she grows bigger

and older

she never forgets  the candy beads

nor the sorrow

still

she finds upon her pillow

rainbow-shadowed dreams

 

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas 

(finally finished April, 2013)

 

 

 

 

 

childhood death

◄ Upon Originality

The Bath ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (5508)

Wed 22nd May 2013 22:14

This bleeds beautifully. Kudos.

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David Cooke

Wed 22nd May 2013 11:44

This has a lovely insistent rhythm, Cynthia. Very moving.

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M.C. Newberry

Tue 30th Apr 2013 15:21

Although I am fortunate not to have to identify with the aspect of death in this context, it does manage to evoke some distant memory of elderly relations and their homes...like entering a mysterious museum full of silence and times past, with coloured baubles and little ornaments that spoke of other lives lived and other experiences long since the stuff of memory. Children have their own pass into that world - as if nature is preparing them for what lies ahead. I can certainly recall feeling and understanding beyond my actual years when I look back now.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 27th Apr 2013 12:44

It's strange how certain themes seem to cycle simultaneously through the group on WOL, with no apparent connection other than thought waves. Yes, I know DEATH is high on the charts lately with media coverage, but, still, the persistent coincidences are odd.

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