If I met my mother as a child
I think she'd smile a little more than she does now
And I think that smile would be real
If only just a little
I think her eyes would hold a sparkle
And I think she would tell me about how excited she is to live
I would smile too
Hold her hand gently as the wind blew
Tell her I love her
And warn her of the world
Because someday the world won't be so kind
One day she'll have me, and she'll marry a dead beat
One day this world she has hope in will be the same world to destroy her
Most importantly I'd tell her to run the opposite way of my father
And never have me
She'll be happier that way
She'll be happier without me
That doesn't make me sad
That doesn't make me angry
That gives me hope
That maybe she'd find better.
YOU ARE READING
Where The Grass Grows
PoesieA poetry collection about life & death, love, loss, & grief. Written through the lens of a 15-17-year-old girl. These poems are a collection of my story. Take care of them. They mean the world to me.
