Poem for class

So, I meant to e-mail this to myself to save it, but e-mail isn't working for some weird reason. So I'm just putting this here for now. You don't have to read it. If you do, keep in mind, that a lot of history is meshed together. :)


I emerge from my dark dwelling into
the bright whiteness of day.
Snow flutters, clings, falls,
dances, catches, smashes into cement,
turning spotless white into dull grey.
Look up! Watch the ballet…Smack!
Some dancers collide with your eye,
making it cold, wet, and teary.
Tears rush, gush, hot onto your face.
Stupid parrot. Stupid toy parrot.
It was December 17, 1994,
my fifth birthday. Pink candles
illuminated my chocolate cake,
layers of vanilla ice cream drizzled
down the sides, making it so good.
Make a wish, blow out the flames.
See the fire fight, flutter, struggle, die.
Smoke sizzles, rising into the air, forgotten.
Blue crinkly wrapping paper hide
your surprise from your mom.
Seize it! Tear it! Discover the inside!
It’s red, yellow, blue! A toy parrot
lodged on a plastic brown log.
The most important part is the red button.
Press it, and record, and the parrot will
say anything you say. It’s your friend!
I yank it out, push the round red and say—
“Natalie’s a smelly old goat!”
My older brother and sisters yell.
“Natalie’s a smelly old goat!”
The bird shrieks into my ears.
“Natalie’s a smelly old goat!”
I slam the bird down, and run outside
crying, howling, and sniffling snot.
Gaze at the white sparkly snow on the ground.
Sparkly it is. Blinding, too.
The sun illuminates everything.
Wipe the snow from your eye, and chuckle.
You were but five years old.
Inhale the coldness, enjoy the briskness.
Remember what you wished for?
“I wished for my older brother and sisters
to respect me, even though I’m the youngest.”
You didn’t get your wish. No.
Crying out in the cold, you were mad.
I’m not spoiled because I’m the youngest!
Just think, the youngest child often has to
stay behind, while the others leave the nest.
The youngest has to take care, clean up.
The youngest has to be the “good one.”
I can’t make any mistakes, because they
already made them all! No room for me.
And they get to leave before me, and I’ll be
All alone in this house. Rooms will be empty…
Empty rooms. The house is very empty.
Mom and Dad and I are best friends now.
We enjoy each others’ company.
The house seems full, despite four empty bedrooms.
Four siblings all grown up and married.
And I am the only one left.
I will be the only one left!
I turn and charge into the house.
I want to enjoy the time I do have
with my older brother and sisters!
I target Ricky first, because he’s the oldest.
I bleat loudly and head butt his rear.
First he’s shocked at my tear stained face,
but then he laughs with the rest, and we
wrestle on the floor, one happy family.
The parrot lies forgotten, yelling
“Natalie’s a smelly old goat!”
Today is December 17, 1994,
And it’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.