The Boy in the Cupboard

(Harry Potter)

The perspective of Petunia Dursley- a woman of walls

I watched him leave, trunk in tow,
That scruffy hair, that quiet glow.
The same eyes she had- my sister, gone-
The same strange ground he now walks on.

He didn’t look back. He never does.
Not for the garden. Not for us.
Not for the cupboard beneath the stairs
Where I kept him small, with oversized clothes to wear.

I scrubbed the magic off the walls,
Locked his door, ignored the calls.
Pretended letters did not arrive,
Just tried to keep the “normal” alive.

He grew too fast, too thin, too tall-
A boy who never fit at all.
And still, despite what I tried to hide,
He stood with power I never supplied.

I knew he’d leave- they always do,
The ones with stars stitched in their shoes.
But oh, how quiet the kitchen feels
When no one slams the cupboard seals.

I never said it.
I never will.
But I watched from behind the windowsill.
Not with love, not quite with pride- B
ut still with something aching deep inside.

For a moment, they looked the same
And for a moment, I yearned to be
On the swing with her once again.