by Queen4aday
old houses
dust
dirt
loud hip hop music
bouncing
down the street
(although
i cant hear it
just
feel
the beat)
in a worn-
out
chair
as i smell
my dad making
a new recipe
(never
to be
repeated
again)
surrounded
by piles
of too many books
trash
blowing
in the wind
(crinkle
crackle
crunch
under my feet)
laughing
running
across
the street
south branch
library
(the smell of books
sweet
but yet sour)
in the shade
we sit
from
or to?
Character Appearance
15 years ago
2 comments:
I like this poem very much. It has great imagery!
The excellent ending made me read the poem again. I like the sensory language. Good job!
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