You had your Barbie & your handsome Ken.
Many days then; you played alone: as life.
Quite some time ago; so way back when.
Each doll had a certain pose.
Pressed within a hardened plastic.
What was all about those 'tight-fit' clothes?
'Made in China' print, marked upon their asses.
Destined to be paired together, yet sold separately.
Bought each alone, in a peek-aboo cellophaned box.
Little girl days led of make-believe; you alone, on patient knees.
Eventually you chose to rename one of them.
Since you learned, with this independence.
Played as if a Mom; however: that 'Ken';
as boyfriend, you often pretended.
Afternoons of boundless playful imagination.
Maked-believed of much, this or that: & waited.
Your vivid daydreams held in youthful hibernation.
Memories have played, in those moments you'd pretend.
Whether you realized then; your own creative Self: happened.
Things that mattered if silenced since,
matters even more to Be & life itself: extends.
It's beyond your control; it's all meant to Be.
To this day be thankful for your Voice within.
It comes to us eventually, so very Deep.
That Girl becomes a Woman; a vibrant Poet:
Your Spirit soars, & spreads, & speaks.
Bless you for all you've ever imagined,
May your words speak to forever,
as all you've written; is read: as happens.
It is, of You. – Your poetry: lives.
©ericwk ~ an EWK Poe'em