When I was very small
A load of plywood and two by fours
Showed up in our back yard.
I was told it was for a play house
It began to dawn on me there was only one person
Who was the right size for a play sized house:
How could it be- surely they would soon notice
How utterly spoiled I was; realize their error,
Take the wood back, and give up the plan.
But my secret was safe with me.
Speedily the little house grew from a few studs
Until there was no doubt about it
With a ground plan equal to one sheet of plywood
It was sized just right for me, the resident munchkin
There was a little sink, with removable plastic camp tub
So I could have a dish sink or a laundry wash
Whatever imagination called for that day,
And little shelves for dishes.
Another shelf for whatnots, and they said
I could move in my doll furniture, table and chairs
Soon as they got the linoleum put down.
For people who survived the depression
The idea of building a small house just for play
Would seem to have been an alien concept
I think they decided I should have everything
Simply because they had had nothing
I reaped the benefit of their lack
Not because I was wonderful or especially deserving
It was because they were endlessly self sacrificing
I could have lived on that love alone, the rest of my life.
But what a first day, to sit alone in my own little space
With that overwhelming smell of fresh cut wood
Each time I opened that little door my imagination was stoked:
The play house became a home for dolls;
A pint sized library, to read and write poems and stories
A little white schoolhouse for pretend class
A hide out from the world to stay off other people's nerves
A clubhouse for displaced teenagers
An intelligence base for spies making up secret codes
To this day, the smell of new wood is an aphrodisiac:
A burning balsam pyre to extract my creative juices.
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-came-early-one-spring/
