White Shag Rug ... for Poetry Thursday

That's me on the bike and my best friend at the time, Judy, her white German Shepherd, Lady, and my precious Booby. She and I played paper dolls on the rug in the poem.

I'm not one who likes confessional poetry much, which was the prompt for this week's Poetry Thursday. I wrote this about 15 years ago and have written a few other since ... don't know if they helped or not with the issues. All I can tell you is that when one gets to a certain age one doesn't blame anything on anybody anymore. I do tend to blame myself from time to time ... I think everyone does. Life is what it is. I truly believe everyone tries to do their best with the tools they are given.

White Shag Rug

I played paper dolls
on the white shag rug
that smelled of dog
and counterfeit days

I played paper dolls
on the white shag rug
where mothers smiled
and fathers laughed
they dressed for dinner
in elegant clothes
all the colors matched

I played paper dolls
on the white shag rug
where perfect children
rode prancing ponies
never had to lie
about black and blue legs

I played paper dolls
on the white shag rug
where laughing fathers
never beat their perfect children
smiling mothers
never drank beer

I played paper dolls
on the white shag rug
that smelled
playing with dolls made of paper

jzr