When I Was


Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.

Sentiments and Spiels

3I9A1716

When I was young,
there was a field
across my street.

In the summer,
it would be filled,
with grandmothers
and their gardens.
In the fall,
it would burn,
and smoke.
In the winter,
I would run,
with burning lungs,
and light steps.

These gardens
were bought
by a runaway president,
who made them into
concrete and towers,
that blocked the sky
and the birds.

but I still feel
the way the snow
fought to remove
my boot from my step
and the air
grey and thick
as the ground
prepared for frost,
as my breathe
joined the wind
and I did not
have to end
my search
for where
the sun
met the trees.

I still run
in that field
even though
it only exists
in my mind.

I still,
even though
we are
both gone.

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