Written to the prompt: “Write a poem about a childhood memory you wish you could experience just one more time.” My parents didn’t actually say Barbie’s boobs were too big, but that she was too well-developed for a child’s toy.
presents around a tree of tinsel,
teardrop bulbs of red and gold,
disco balls of blue and green,
a carousel of modern magic
reflecting colors on silver,
shimmering rainbows of light.
Outside a sharp, frigid beauty
as the sun rose to reveal
glistening branches of trees
and a heavy blanketing of snow,
the perfect Christmas card setting
for unpacking stockings,
ripping paper from presents.
That year I had asked for a Barbie
but a Barbie was not to be,
her boobs too big, or so I was told,
so instead a teen doll was mine
and I pouted, small and disappointed,
as my brother received the real magic -
a puppy he could call his own.
If I could set my kid self down again
in the middle of that morning,
I’d take in the beauty of my favorite house
in my favorite town of all we lived in,
forgive the doll that wasn’t a Barbie,
and thank my parents for trying their best,
be grateful for my brother, still so very alive,
and simply know: it was enough.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
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Written on 2026-07-23 at 16:05
Tags Memories  Loss  Family 
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Reflection
A Christmas morning -presents around a tree of tinsel,
teardrop bulbs of red and gold,
disco balls of blue and green,
a carousel of modern magic
reflecting colors on silver,
shimmering rainbows of light.
Outside a sharp, frigid beauty
as the sun rose to reveal
glistening branches of trees
and a heavy blanketing of snow,
the perfect Christmas card setting
for unpacking stockings,
ripping paper from presents.
That year I had asked for a Barbie
but a Barbie was not to be,
her boobs too big, or so I was told,
so instead a teen doll was mine
and I pouted, small and disappointed,
as my brother received the real magic -
a puppy he could call his own.
If I could set my kid self down again
in the middle of that morning,
I’d take in the beauty of my favorite house
in my favorite town of all we lived in,
forgive the doll that wasn’t a Barbie,
and thank my parents for trying their best,
be grateful for my brother, still so very alive,
and simply know: it was enough.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Read 1 time
Written on 2026-07-23 at 16:05
Tags Memories  Loss  Family 
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