Stages of Me

My poem in response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt:  ‘Take a subject you’re familiar with and imagine it as three photos in a sequence. Tackle the subject by describing those three shots.’


Stages Of Me

It has to be ‘Me”
I’m the subject, that
I know the most (est)
and the best (est)

A little girl in print frock
sits on a floor, legs sprawled
head bent, busy doing something
her doll’s on the floor.
She’s looking at the camera
that’s in her dad’s hand
her sideways glance, coy smile
wide-eyed and amused
she looks a happy child.

A young girl in Indian dress
sitting intent and serious
attending her college class
a book on her desk, she’s
looking at the teacher.
A big girl she is, but
demure and petite
like a child, and yet
looks wise and serene
as a grown-up should be.

A woman in khaki cargo
and funky teenager tee
looks bored and listless
thus sitting under a tree
outside a coffee shop.
Almost middle-aged but
regressive and semi-young
as if saying, getting
old is something
not meant for Me

These were three pictures
on a known familiar ‘subject’.
But known she can never be
for she is a subject untackled
a queer enigma that she is.