It’s a photo of me as a five-year-old child in front of a mustard-coloured door with a brass letterbox and a door knob. I’m wearing a white lace waistcoat, a white T-shirt, and a bright pink skirt. I’m smiling, with my hair in a ponytail.
Outside Grandma’s Door by Kay Medway
As tall as a letterbox; as lacy, patterned as what were once net curtains, now turned to waistcoats of white; as pink as a ballerina or beach doll's dress; as smiling as an initial letter 'U', introducing—offering— the alphabet's words umbrella, unicycle, utter; as accessorised as a gold confetti heart impressed on a night-coloured, once-rainbow-like arc and band.
As still on the doorstep as a symbol of a swan; as stepping, skipping, as a buckle fastened on a patent black or red shoe; as silken as the satin border and edge of a baby blanket; as excited as a birthday badge; as five-years-old as my dreams and wishes.
As sleeping-while-we're-out as what’s briefly left behind our closed door; as striving as windows searching for highlights of streets beyond hedges and trees; as gold as a daffodil; as shiny as outside— otherworldly, going out.
A Polaroid photo of me as a child came up in my memories, and I quickly wrote a #poem about the moment I now remember. #poetry #poetrycommunity #simile