Free Write Week 8

Where's Mommy
Bell sees the daisy in the rotting leaf,
'Dah, Dah, Dah, La, La, La, shoes off.'
She flies on the sheeting of a dark cape,
With golden wisps of static hairs that float.
She hears the noise of birds, speaking in dog,
And squirrels speaking in horse across the yard,
She falls on the elastic laughing, tired,
Which into 'jump' and 'hold you daddy' turns.
I look up in the silver and gold fall,
As Bell picks up a straw conductors stick,
with this she marks her noisy symphony
of stops and starts, of sounds with patchy pitch,
     With and without much word and without verse,
     But always with a delighted pleasure,

Silently at first the question bounced,
The one that leaped around my mind for hours,
Since the game began I've thrown this thought.
Where's mommy, cross the street the baby cries.
Where's mommy, some where close I hear no car.
Then longer and faster, I hear the cry.
Where's mommy, where's mommy, I want her now.
I have known the leaps of self help books,
A hundred Kramer verses jumping films,
And some vague hours spent with  Dr. flip,
Yet nothing stops this round-a-bout question.
'Sweet Bella Hayden,' I  must speak the words;

      'I don't know where I don't know where' she whirs,
      'But she must come home soon to cook suppers.'