Dark alley doors
Doors, bleached by the sun
Doors, black from fire
Set free by the right key
Barricaded doors
A door, swings open with the summer wind
Locked from the inside
Not allowed to play
Mother, the armed guard, stands
Calling from the door,
“Dinner!”
In a hushed and covert style
you are stealthily making plans with
your
friend
at the farthest corner of your yard.
Dinner ends and quietly
you slip away as your mom mumbles
something baffling about homework.
And you meet your accomplice
and carry out the plan.
No comments:
Post a Comment