(Poem 79 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

There’s a real life
gingerbread house
down the road and
around the bend.

I used to babysit
a boy who grew into
a very tall man who
married a wife
and had some kids
and lives there now.

Once my charges
were fed and bathed,
stories read, I’d eat
their parents’ snacks
and watch MTV—
when it was actually
about music videos
like Thriller and
The Police,
Tears for Fears,
Madonna’s
Papa Don’t Preach,
Aha, and
Careless Whisper.

I appreciated the
pocket change I
earned from my
first childhood job,
but my real paycheck
was the chance to
watch ZZ Top and
Duran Duran.

Those blessed reels
were my lifeline to
Sweet Dreams in the
Still of the Night
and the soundtrack
of my adolescence.

@Home Studio – 79^th poem of the year