the summer
before eight
is for stretching
& growing
a little yelling
wands & wizards
mud in the waves
looking around you
& noticing it all.
how does that work?
what if i push?
you know the answer.
& this: all the love.
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You, a mother, small children, summer mornings. We've got all the same here and it feels like you took this moment out of my life.
ReplyDeleteI can taste that early sun and the creaking into the day you've expressed here.
aw. this is for my son, he asked me to write a poem titled "and this."
ReplyDeletehe will turn eight years old when the summer ends :(
aw, I know that boy.
ReplyDeletesweet! I love that your children are so involved :)
ReplyDeleteusually they ask me to write poems about harry potter and such.
ReplyDeletethey've written some of their own :)