Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
lacey-andersonPoems
I look down, hoping to see something of interest. All I see is the asphalt, dark and glistening with the melted snow. The aroma sparks a vision, I close my eyes and breathe in the air. It smells of 4th grade recess, when real life seemed an eon away. The rhythmic tap of jump ropes and the smack of sneakers halts as I open my eyes and I am brought back to the lot. I wander around and happen to see Thirteen damp cigarette butts, two green stripes cling to their necks, each is smoked to the filter. I am reminded that we are what I once considered old In the corner of my eye Sean spins himself on a patch of ice, a child escapes from his smile.
0
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
Still Children
I look down, hoping to see something of interest. All I see is the asphalt, dark and glistening with the melted snow. The aroma sparks a vision, I close my eyes and breathe in the air. It smells of 4th grade recess, when real life seemed an eon away. The rhythmic tap of jump ropes and the smack of sneakers halts as I open my eyes and I am brought back to the lot. I wander around and happen to see Thirteen damp cigarette butts, two green stripes cling to their necks, each is smoked to the filter. I am reminded that we are what I once considered old In the corner of my eye Sean spins himself on a patch of ice, a child escapes from his smile.
Written by
lacey-anderson
Canadian
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem