SUMMER IN THE CITY
She’s a beauty,
Taller than most with
Blonde hair teased to spiky perfection,
Her only dream to grow old and white
And drift away with the wind.
She’s one of many,
Arms open to strangers,
Her Amazonian garb flowing
As she walks the park with her sisters,
dancing, singing with pigeons.
She’s in danger.
Poison fills her veins,
or violence robs her of her head.
Sometimes even children’s hands snatch her soul.
That’s life for a dandelion.
YOU ARE READING
FRIDAY NIGHT PIZZA
PuisiThis is poetry about normal, ordinary life. Some of it will rhyme. Some of it won't. But I sincerely hope that anyone who stumbles across this will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.
