For Judy

Little girl, sitting
so properly,
ankles crossed,
thumbs up,
ready to be lifted
out of the past,
give me your hand.

Your tiny cupid mouth
has never let out
a scream, a laugh,
yet, your cream-
colored face has tiny
hair-line cracks.
yet, you, the perfect child,
sit in your rocking
chair, holding
your companion bear.

Your wardrobe has come
down to this—
limp pink pinafore,
the starch long gone.
Here, let me rock you
once again.

The golden irises
of your brown eyes,
wide-looking. One eye
crossed helps you see
beyond me.

But then,
we go back so far
we don’t need
to look too deeply
into one another.

Published Over a Threshold of Roots, Sandra Larson, Pudding House Chapbook Series, 2007