Teacups and Dreams

Sitting in the living room, toes pressed
Against the rickety wooden floor
Fingers tapping restlessly on the arm
Of a straight-backed velvet chair;
I glance around at old, unread books
And broken china teacups.

But something catches my sight
An old photo in a cracked picture frame
Of a little girl whose childish eyes
Sparkled of unconquerable dreams

Her patent leather shoes were muddy
And her ivory pinnafore no cleaner than they
Tossled and unironed--
The pink ribbons hung about her waist.
The bow in her hair was off center,
Though not much more can be said
About the blonde locks it was in.
They were scattered about her
Suntanned brow that set off
Those eyes--the eyes that
Willed to change the world.

But the photo's old and broken,
The little girl, grown up and aged.
She has children of her own now,
Grown up with their own too.

Today she sits in a rocker,
White hair neatly combed and parted
Reading some tattered romance novel
Through eyes:  grey and suppressed.
Eyes that met the world full speed,
Only to be broken and caged
And all desires cast into shadow--
Suffocated by society's wills.

Sitting in the living room, toes pressed
Against the rickety wooden floor
Fingers tapping restlessly on the arm
Of a straight-backed velvet chair;
I glance around at old, unread books...
And broken china teacups.