She brought cookies, in a
Ziploc bag, to my door.
I tugged on Mom’s
Carpet-textured sweater.
We swung on a swing
And she showed me
Her loose tooth. I pointed
At the Band-Aid on my knee.
The color of honey,
Inside a plastic
Bear, is what
Her hair looked like.
Red, black, neon yellow;
Caterpillars flooded
Our shared cigar box.
Then the tree-leaves fell.
We stomped our Sketchers
Behind her mom
And mine. They filled
Baskets with glue sticks.
Yellow buses opened
Their tall doors. They mouthed
At us to grow. The caterpillars
Laughed. So I grabbed her fingers.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
She brought cookies, in a
Ziploc bag, to my door.
I tugged on Mom’s
Carpet-textured sweater.
We swung on a swing
And she showed me
Her loose tooth. I pointed
At the Band-Aid on my knee.
The color of honey,
Inside a plastic
Bear, is what
Her hair looked like.
Red, black, neon yellow;
Caterpillars flooded
Our shared cigar box.
Then the tree-leaves fell.
We stomped our Sketchers
Behind her mom
And mine. They filled
Baskets with glue sticks.
Yellow buses opened
Their tall doors. They mouthed
At us to grow. The caterpillars
Laughed. So I grabbed her fingers.
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