Sometimes, I write poems.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
You claimed they ate carrots
And I said no the word impossible
In my mind big as a saddle.
City met country as I followed
You from the garden your hands
Orange and green to the wet corral.
Some you gave to me and the fence
Creaked as the warm lips threatened
To pull me to the muddy earth.
I was twelve and you ten that summer
Darling you are the best thing about me
For as many years combined now.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008
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