Also! It's National Poetry Writing Month! Or NaPoWriMo, for short. In honor of this, here is another one of my poems. It's based around one of my fondest childhood memories: my elementary school. Enjoy!
The Garden
I know she loved me, once.
She liked me for my beauty
and my view of the valley below.
Even now I know she still loves me and misses me.
In the middle of the night, in the beyond place,
I can feel her dreaming of me.
I see her, and she sees me.
She has changed. I have not.
Her hair is short. My grass of my soccer field is still an inch tall.
She has curves now. My rolling-down hills still slope.
She’s grown taller. My copse of pine trees still serves as ‘base.’
And yet I can see
the dust of my track still sticks to her feet.
The sounds of my halls still echo in her ears.
The smell of my books, now old, still fills her lungs.
My monkey bars are her bones.
My sawdust is her skin.
My green dragon benches’ fire is her breath
and she chokes because of it.
I wish she would come back.
The outside world has changed her, I know.
Made her angry, made her tough
Made her scared of me.
Made her forget just how strong my big toys are
and how she felt on top of them.
Like Supergirl.
Me and her, we were best friends
for the longest time.
We laughed together,
cried together,
and even hated each other for a day.
But like all the other little girls,
she left.
The beyond place called to her,
made promises, tempted her.
The beyond place where my chain linked fences end
and everything else begins.
Every year I lose kids like her
and every year I open my gates
for more like her.
Brightly colored, helium voiced balloons
Who bounce against my blacktop.
Stare out into the beyond place.
And promise to themselves they won’t let themselves float away.
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