Annabelle

How I wish I could have met you.

I imagined you with thick, black curls and shining eyes.

After you were born, I imagined my finger in your tiny fist.

We could have grown together;

You would age with grace and beauty

While I wrinkle and shrink.

You would have your father’s charm,

Your mother’s smile.

Men would chase after you,

Begging to have you near.

I can see it now:

Beautiful, strong, independent Annabelle

In a wedding gown.

Your lips painted red

And your curls pinned back in wisps that fall in your face.

I’ve never imagined a more beautiful girl.

But your lips weren’t fully developed

And you barely had fingernails to paint.

You will never know boys

Or high heels.

You will never even know me.

How we wish we could have known you.

 

Arianna Sotos is a sophomore at a small liberal arts college in suburban New York, majoring in psychology with a minor in criminal justice. She is also the writer for The Grouchy Artist blog.