Safety This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I'm seventeen.

But even so,

Papa takes my hand

Whenever we cross the street.

He laughs because

I complain

And stumble off the curb,

Feigning senility as if lost

Without the pressure

Of My Hand.



I'm seventeen.

But I know

That I will always be

The infant

He carried like a football.

And even though I

Growl and Scowl and

Say I'm Too Old

For this,

I Clutch His Hand.



I'm seventeen.

But I can't

Complain when Papa reaches

For me at the curb.

Because even though

I'm too Big

For a football,

I never want to lose

The Safety

In His Hand.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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