A swingset
Ombre green and white
I kick my legs towards the sky
Wishing I was a bird
That I could fly
The late spring sun
Kissed my nose
As tobacco burned it's heady scent
Through my mother's throat
Three shovels
Three girls
Digging a hole
In the area of our yard
That grass refused to grow
We wanted to make a hideout
Deep within the cool earth
To escape the sun's blistering haze
During our recess of early day
Even though we knew that later
Our father would buy a bag of dirt
And cover our progress
We refused to stop
Dirt darkened our pastel shirts
Mother wiped sweat beads from her brow
The blonde of her hair glowed like a halo in bow
Around the pale Ivory skin
That today, was not plastered with paint
I remember that spring fondly
Our swings were new
Yet somehow creaky
A young tree was overgrown and shady
Behind the shed was a bush of berries...
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My Life Poetically-Dressed
الشعرThis is a collection of poetry I wrote about each year of my life. Some years will have more than one poem. I know this platform is mostly for novels and such, but I felt like receiving feedback on my poetry. I hope you can feel heard, seen, and l...
