Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
She tricycles down the road Pigtails and streamers Flying behind her. Tiny legs pumping hard Taking her to the end Of the neighbor’s driveway Before she collapses of Pure exhaustion. She paints a portrait of her family That looks more like purple, blue And red spiders with huge heads. Everyone is there: Mom, Dad, Lucas, and Spot. She plays dress up with Mom’s Black pumps and red Lingerie and mauve Lipstick pretending to be Sixteen years old when finally She is there and she realizes That make up isn’t all its Cracked up to be.
0
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
Please Don't Be Late
She tricycles down the road Pigtails and streamers Flying behind her. Tiny legs pumping hard Taking her to the end Of the neighbor’s driveway Before she collapses of Pure exhaustion. She paints a portrait of her family That looks more like purple, blue And red spiders with huge heads. Everyone is there: Mom, Dad, Lucas, and Spot. She plays dress up with Mom’s Black pumps and red Lingerie and mauve Lipstick pretending to be Sixteen years old when finally She is there and she realizes That make up isn’t all its Cracked up to be.
meagankathryn
Written by
27/F/American
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 6:04 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem