The Picture

The Picture..

I remember that day, being so little... I still have that picture...
Its a picture Ill never forget...
I was almost 2
And in the picture all you can see is me scared and crying.
But did my mother ever ask why?
I remember the man ,coming up to my crib,
While my mother was distracted with my brother and sister.
And this man shouldn't of been touching me...
Where was my mother?
I finally got away crying and screaming...and running around the house.
My mother couldn't understand why I couldn't sit still and look pretty for this man to take my picture .
For so many years that was a hidden secret ,
That I had to keep every time I look at that picture of me crying and scared.

I was always raised not to show my feelings,

I was always raised not to show my feelings,

No one never new the pain I was feeling as a child.

In my house no one ever knew where it started..

Clean home always tidy and neat, was it my mother ?

was it my father?

My father was a very hard working man very well respected.

My mother lost a child before me, got very heavy into a religion.

My mother had the most loving parents,

Where we would spend the summers with.

My father parents disown our family.

My father chose to stay with our mother.

As a very small child I remember that day in Queens,
 on a snowy day before Christmas,

My fathers parents were arguing with my father,
 my father grab me.

He stormed out of the house down the stairs .

I had no shoes on,
 I left my favorite Red boots there.

I remember walking with my Dad quickly passing all the stores .

Seeing all the Christmas decor,
 My dad picking my up and getting on the train to go home.

That was the Last time I ever seen my grand parents...