Eden

Long ago I had a pet–

sort of.

I was four, or five

or six.

Can’t remember which.

Memories tightly squirreled in the coin purse of my mind.

Only known to me

I thought,

but just perhaps

my parents were aware

that she was there

and they indulged me.

Or maybe not.

Who knows what lurks in the minds of parents?

She lived beneath

a marbled flagstone.

One of many

which formed

the garden path.

Halcyon days idly spent, when I dreamt sweet dreams.

Basking in the warmth

of that flattened stone

barely moving

rarely leaving

patiently she waited.

For me.

Giddy with anticipation for that secret place, my private space.

A brandished stick

to scoop her up

and as she dangled there

I’d draw her

wriggling body near.

Curiosity?  Excitement?  Or was the enticement–fear!

As I stared

into those hooded,

blinking, slanted eyes

I was mesmerized.

The seasons passed…

Spring came again.

Purple crocus bordered stepping stones after winter’s thaw.

I searched for her.

Where had she gone?

The flagstone

from it’s earthen place

uncovered.

Behold!  A dried, transparent shroud discovered.

Farewell, oh halcyon days.

(And yet, perhaps…?)

Jan Chapman

February, 2012