#poem #poetry #amwriting sketchbook tonight

tonight I will write of

ice cream dropped in the playground
knees skinned by the flinging round-a-bout
that moment when it is home time
   and you cannot decide
   what will give most fun
   for that one last ride

and you chose wrongly
   and are led away by the hand

in defiance we do not look at the trees
nor see the shimmering sun dance on the river
miss those geese in formation

but follow along heavy of hand
                 staring at the ground

The Blue Book

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