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Poem: These Halls

My grandmother has a box/Filled with dolls/Dirty, broken dolls/That were once whole/Friends for my mother/My mother was once a little girl
poem by young author
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My grandparents’ closet is littered with boxes of old things

That once belonged to my parents


My grandmother has a box

Filled with dolls

Dirty, broken dolls

That were once whole

Friends for my mother

My mother was once a little girl

Who liked to act out stories from her books with her dolls

Who talked a little too much with her friends in class

Who was excited to get a 100 on her history test

Just like me


My grandparents have a box

Of family photos and old report cards

My father was once a little boy

Who fought with his little brother over toys

Who struggled with the same math equations I struggle with now

Who stayed out late playing with his friends

Just like me


In the last 14 years of my life,

As I grew up

I have watched my parents grow up too

Screams of joy that echoed down the halls of their childhood homes

Now echo down the halls of my house

Screams of laughter and scolding for my brother and I for running in the house

And to do our homework, and to stop playing with our toys

The little children grew up, and learned to raise children of their own


And as we grew older, our parents grew older too

Medicine bottles on the kitchen table multiplied

The creak of the stairs as they walk has gotten slower

There are more wrinkles lining their mouths

A polaroid of jokes and laughing fits

And lining their foreheads

A record of worries and wonder

New gray hairs sprout every day

Though I did not notice until their heads gleamed silver

Groans of aches and pains that

Echo down the halls of my house


One day those echos may die out

And these halls will fall silent

As my brother and I are no longer there

And my parents have grown too old

So I will gather the medicine bottles

Photograph the wrinkles and gray hairs

Record the aches and pains

Along with the boxes in my grandparents’ closet

Of old photos and dolls

And I will put them in a display case

To cherish as these halls still roar and clamor

Until it becomes still

Image courtesy: Pixabay

Adrita Chowdhury is a 14 year old rising Sophomore. She is an enthusiastic student of Kathak and Rabindrasangeet…who spends her free time reading and playing the flute.

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