Childhood Refuge

In my bed, reading books forever,

when my mom had asked that

I wash the dishes,

I rarely ever did, right away.

Reading alone, she says, is good

but only when it’s not distracting

and keeping you,

from the tasks at hand.

I always let it distract me though,

laying in bed, book in my hands,

late into morning,

or as soon as I was awake.

Hiding away from work and chaos

daydreaming in all of my free time,

retreating and

letting books distract me.

Playing with modeling clay, creating,

crocheting, but only rarely was it on

my own time,

I wasted most of that on nothing.

My garden, and the little stone block

and wood plank bench I’d made,

surrounded by

plants and flowers I’d grown.

I’d sit in that garden, pull weeds, think,

read, drink tea, and then, she’d call me

from the window,

because I hadn’t done the dishes.

Yet...