It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. (E.E. Cummings)
On a 1950’s Thursday afternoon
a little girl stands
on her imaginary stage.
A flat maroon, living room carpet.
Her pleasant scene grows as
a popular song drifts into her play space
from the kitchen radio where Mommy
boils potatoes for dinner
and complains about how quickly
three kids get a life dirty.
The girl listens to the music and
mimics the trills, crescendos,
and joy in the melody.
The child’s gentle vibrato promises a
clear soprano voice one day.
She would have added gestures
for her make-believe audience
but Mommy appears at the doorway
wielding her wooden spoon.
So-who-do-you-think-you-are?
Mommy turns away without striking.
Yet, the girl recognizes the warning
and retreats into the dark, silent spaces
between the lace curtains and window.
The song will not disappear.
She hears it inside her head
and saves the sound
for a safer moment
when she will lead her future
children to follow dreams,
discover subtleties,
laugh, cry, and simply be.
terrypetersen 
I LOVE the e.e.cummings quote AND your poem!!! Thank you!
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Terry, I love this so much! When I was a little girl we lived with my grandmother Ella. We were in a small rural Kentucky town which did have a theatre, with a balcony and a stage where the screen resided, there were maroon curtains if I remember correctly on either side of the stage. My grandmother cleaned that theatre and sometimes took me along to help. We would take a break from sweeping popcorn and placing the seats up on the chairs and she would place me on the stage, where I held my first concerts. Later at Music Hall, Carnegie Hall, Riverbend, NKYSO, a tour of Yugoslavia, Hungary and Italy, and so many lovely old Churches, I shivered to remember that my grandmother believed I was a singer. I will always be grateful for that. Love, the other, other Ella
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You were blessed. My mother discouraged me. Fortunately, other people in the neighborhood had different opinions.
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