Magic Garden...Access Denied

Every afternoon with an 8 year olds
undying belief in miracles
I would sit on our worn out carpet
amidst second hand furniture
and the spicy scents
of moms dinner prep routine
wafting from the kitchen.
I’d wait with wide-eyed wonder
in front of our 16-inch
window to a thousand worlds
with excitement, anticipation
and hope.

I was convinced (everyday for 8 years)
that today would be the day
that Carole and Paula would see ME
through their magical looking glass
and I would somehow be transported
(if only for 30 minutes)
into that Magic Garden
with it’s chuckle patch of daisies
its storybox that had no locks
and its magic tree that housed
a curious pink squirrel
named Sherlock.

Yet day after day
as I grew from child to teen
I remained an unseen outsider
only temporarily
granted permission to watch
from my tobacco scented
shabby surroundings.

Because they never once…
said my name.

Today, (some 25 years later)
I am a long way
from believing in miracles
or magic
and yet somehow
my desire,
my need,
is still as gripping
as that 8-year-old child’s
who wanted nothing more
than to be transported magically
to a better world.