If the blades of grass
in my front yard could speak,
they would tell you
who walked on them.
Their soundless voices,
Louder, than the drawling chatter
of the woman next door.They would scream aloud
and tell the howling wind,
that those feet
which stepped on them,
were of those few friends
who were unfazed by my mother,
a vine with no tree to hold.The grass blades
would whisper to you,
about the tears my mother shed
while trying to pull off,
an invasive weed.
They would tell you
about the times she tended to them
wielding a lawn mower,
for there was no man’s hand
that would do the chore
on Sunday mornings.The grass blades would tell you
that the feet which treaded on them,
were not of those who came
bearing red roses and rhinestone rings for my mother.
But the woman next door
watched every knock
on our front door,
for she was sure
that the “next fish” would be caught,
and she could shine
at every feast
by serving the delicious tale
to those who smacked their lips.The grass blades felt
the barefooted toddler,
and then the pointed heels
of high-end shoes.
The glass blades smiled
with dewy teardrops,
as my mother hugged
her black cloaked girls.- Amanda Lopez 🥀-
YOU ARE READING
ALL THOSE I FELT & TOUCHED ; An Anthology
PoetryThis poetry collection explores the theme of "Living & Non Living" and delves into the relationship among humans, objects and the forces of nature. 🙍♀️ 📝🌱