Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
She says she’s moving.                                       I feel sick and I’m reminded of how my brother outgrew my hand me downs. I still haven’t washed the tea cups since the last time                        she was here                                               and now she’s leaving. Contrary to my feelings, being outgrown can be something overgrown. When was the last time I complained about my garden being overgrown?     She says she’s moving.                                       I feel relief and I’m reminded of my brother rooting through the three foot dill weeds and coming out with potatoes, squash, and the seasons last                              starved tomatoes;                                                           I’m ready for the new season.
0
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
Growth
She says she’s moving.                                       I feel sick and I’m reminded of how my brother outgrew my hand me downs. I still haven’t washed the tea cups since the last time                        she was here                                               and now she’s leaving. Contrary to my feelings, being outgrown can be something overgrown. When was the last time I complained about my garden being overgrown?     She says she’s moving.                                       I feel relief and I’m reminded of my brother rooting through the three foot dill weeds and coming out with potatoes, squash, and the seasons last                              starved tomatoes;                                                           I’m ready for the new season.
jesse-the-man-cox
Written by
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem