He said I lost all my marbles
I started to cry,
Really weep
As I remembered the marbles I owned as a tot.
I wondered how he knew
Perhaps he was a clairvoyant.
No, he definitely was a psychic
Oh, but those marbles
Red, white, blue and yellow, they were.
Their colours reminded me of Superman
Or rather Supergirl -because, feminism (duh!)
oh my marbles.
One by one they disappeared…
Lost forever in the dusty meadows of Soroti

So I started to shout
“My Marbles!”
Over and over again
He watched as I lamented
Looking a lot constipated
I thought he was going to offer his shoulder
I needed the comfort
Because, my marbles
But no…
The constipated look gave way to a guffaw
I looked at him in confusion.
Really, how would a woman in tears be hilarious…
His eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“Mable dear, go find those marbles,” he said, patting my back, – “you’ve really lost it…er, your marbles.”


And that’s how I got the nickname marbles….well it was “Lost Marbles” but he decided it was a mouthful and Marbles it became

About Author

This girl is all these things and more. Smiley. Ambivert. Reading Junkie. Wordsmith. Editor. Nerd. Cynical Optimist. Christian. Tea Aficionado. Sock Enthusiast. Book Reviewer.

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  1. I like this; I like that you’re writing more these days and I don’t come to your page only to see that the last post was 2 months ago 🙂
    I like these bits of stories you’re giving us. Please go ahead and while sights and sounds perhaps might have shown us better, like Elijah said, I think words narrating is also a good way to express this.
    Keep at it!

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