🌱 Blades of Grass 🌱

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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 🥀-

- Amanda Lopez 🥀-

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