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molly-westfall1d
Columbus, OH
My children will have a childhood. I will make sure of it. They will swim in ponds littered with Lilly pads Dive down to muddy depths like fearless fish. Sink tiny toes into slick black mud. They will thrash strong tanned legs Toward the gleaming surface above. And **** deep breaths of country air. They will slumber beneath the stars To the sounds of bullfrogs and singing crickets And the frenzy of flickering fairies of the night. They will use glass wands of glitter Just as a magician might To hammer All at once the warm dry earth Sending grasshoppers springing In startled unison- Like magic To escape the alien vibrations. They will run barefoot through fields. Drag behind them a big black beast named Ballou or Bear- or something like it. He who leaps on four legs And licks with pink tongue. They will dance to songs They do not understand. And fashion forts from fallen brushwood. They will swing from high up branches Only climbers of trees can reach. They will discover an island of trees Some sweltering summer day As they wade through waist high Green grass that breathes along With the erratic waving of the wind. They will claim it as their own. They will name it Sail Away or- something like it. And ***** a flapping flag of dishtowel and twig. They will pull from backpacks Granola bars and beef jerky And gulp water from their base camp. And return only when it is too dark And they are too weary To embark on any more adventures. My children will have a childhood. They will have one because I did.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Childhood
My children will have a childhood. I will make sure of it. They will swim in ponds littered with Lilly pads Dive down to muddy depths like fearless fish. Sink tiny toes into slick black mud. They will thrash strong tanned legs Toward the gleaming surface above. And **** deep breaths of country air. They will slumber beneath the stars To the sounds of bullfrogs and singing crickets And the frenzy of flickering fairies of the night. They will use glass wands of glitter Just as a magician might To hammer All at once the warm dry earth Sending grasshoppers springing In startled unison- Like magic To escape the alien vibrations. They will run barefoot through fields. Drag behind them a big black beast named Ballou or Bear- or something like it. He who leaps on four legs And licks with pink tongue. They will dance to songs They do not understand. And fashion forts from fallen brushwood. They will swing from high up branches Only climbers of trees can reach. They will discover an island of trees Some sweltering summer day As they wade through waist high Green grass that breathes along With the erratic waving of the wind. They will claim it as their own. They will name it Sail Away or- something like it. And ***** a flapping flag of dishtowel and twig. They will pull from backpacks Granola bars and beef jerky And gulp water from their base camp. And return only when it is too dark And they are too weary To embark on any more adventures. My children will have a childhood. They will have one because I did.
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They have steadily been building up Gathering- Strengthening in numbers. Each buzz growing louder Creating a deafening hum. All of my thoughts are drowned out by the hum. Save for you. You are the hum. I am the tree. I am the leaves that swing from the branches. I am the flowers the burst forth From tiny buds in the spring. You are the bees. You are the bees that hum in the tree. Covering every inch of green that grows Slowly taking my life. Like a super swarm of bees You came to me. You learned my limbs As the bee learns branches. You pollinated the tiny buds To make them grow. Tender. Caring. With love. What an exquisite duo the tree and bee. But now you take All that I afford All that I have left. The droning never stops in my mind. It is all consuming. A dark sanity swallowing fog. The buzz has changed of late. No longer a loving hum But a greedy one. You **** from me my very air And I can't breathe. You yield from my branches All that you once loved. You take my nectar And leave me stripped. Depleted. Naked. Alone. You have taken my sweet nectar. You have stolen my sweet nature. Left me bitter And blue. When summer comes to an end And the bees slowly leave the tree Behind The memories will begin to fade. The humming will grow silent. And the burning Reds and oranges of my pain Will seep into my leaves. And each will fall. They will call it autumn. The buzzing will stop. Each bee compelled toward New plenty. You will have flown away. And I will stand. Trunk And limbs. To suffer through winter Until the day the bees Return to my weary Branches. Return to my weary branches And love me.
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
I Am The Tree
They have steadily been building up Gathering- Strengthening in numbers. Each buzz growing louder Creating a deafening hum. All of my thoughts are drowned out by the hum. Save for you. You are the hum. I am the tree. I am the leaves that swing from the branches. I am the flowers the burst forth From tiny buds in the spring. You are the bees. You are the bees that hum in the tree. Covering every inch of green that grows Slowly taking my life. Like a super swarm of bees You came to me. You learned my limbs As the bee learns branches. You pollinated the tiny buds To make them grow. Tender. Caring. With love. What an exquisite duo the tree and bee. But now you take All that I afford All that I have left. The droning never stops in my mind. It is all consuming. A dark sanity swallowing fog. The buzz has changed of late. No longer a loving hum But a greedy one. You **** from me my very air And I can't breathe. You yield from my branches All that you once loved. You take my nectar And leave me stripped. Depleted. Naked. Alone. You have taken my sweet nectar. You have stolen my sweet nature. Left me bitter And blue. When summer comes to an end And the bees slowly leave the tree Behind The memories will begin to fade. The humming will grow silent. And the burning Reds and oranges of my pain Will seep into my leaves. And each will fall. They will call it autumn. The buzzing will stop. Each bee compelled toward New plenty. You will have flown away. And I will stand. Trunk And limbs. To suffer through winter Until the day the bees Return to my weary Branches. Return to my weary branches And love me.
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