crushed
crushed 1954 maybe nine admiring my drawing— carefully sharpened pencil, side-view head of a horse wild mane, bold eye best one ever yes! flew down the stairs to Dad’s wood shop look! will you frame it? he swung around to see shrugged, turned away swiping tears, swamped with shame, stomped up the stairs placed my art on a closet shelf my eyes only no one else
Oh no! What a sad story. What a sad, poignant poem. We are so affected by People’s reaction to our art. All through our lives to a certain extent. But as children, these moments hit so hard. Hugs, Cesca xx