Once I was six years old

It was the year she sat at the table for hours

For breakfast and dinner

Because she hated scrambled eggs and Mexican corn

It was the year she laid in the middle of the living room floor

Being assaulted by 14-year-old hormones

It was the year she and her playmate were positioned in a compromising pose

Hormonal teenagers daring them to move

All the while laughing and pointing

They would all be in Sunday school the next morning

It was the year she ran away

The babysitter’s boyfriend told her to “get lost”

So she did

It was the year she almost drowned in the deep end of the rec pool

It was the year she fell through the ice on the lake

she wore a red velvet dress white tights and patent leather black shoes

It was the last year that she swung

On that willow tree

It was the last year she told an adult

 About the bad that happened to her

She was afraid they would laugh again

Once I was six years old.

© Precious Harris and Woman Without Filters 2021