I wrote a poem in junior high and I was desperate to find it and share it tonight. It has resonated with me over all these years, because the message and thought behind it has remained constant. I spent a long time trying to find it and couldn’t. Instead I came across amm’s writings and this one spoke to me – The Bleeding Heart Dips.

The Bleeding Heart Dips

Poppies bend, the bleeding heart dips to the ground,

I stand on the front step,

squinting up at grey sky.

Across the street, a For Sale sign swings dangerously, back and forth.

An aluminum screen door bangs and bangs.


My neighbor scolds, complaining of dust to be cleaned from sills and counters, of her too dry scrap of lawn.

I frown and turn my head – coldly –  no sympathy.


I stand, hand on hip,

squinting up at grey sky.

I am once more a child, standing by my dad, imitating his stance,

Chubby hand on hip – one hand shading my eyes.

I sigh and shake my head because my dad sighs and shakes his head.


The aluminum screen door bangs and bangs.


I shake my head and sigh – with sympathy – at one with prairie dads who at this time, also stand,

squinting up at grey sky.