November 15, 2011
By Aliza Dube GOLD, Deep River, Connecticut
Aliza Dube GOLD, Deep River, Connecticut
11 articles 0 photos 0 comments

By: Aliza Dube
Playground’s a ghost town
Swings being blown
By passengers never shown

In my sanctuary I reside
In catacomb tunnels, by the slide

Safe from things rusted now
Moments that took the final bow

Hidden from the world
My mind a little swirled
Uncap the sharpie in my hand
Relishing thoughts of eyes taking a gand-

Er at my handiwork
Of little mouths’ questions to uncork
Having read the word
A concept never thought, never heard

By a five year old
Of stuttering lies told
By little suburban-mommy
Or maybe even Nanny

To explain
My little growing pain
The brand, the tattoo on the wall
To prove I was here at all

Coming down, falling down
Trying not to drown
In the guilt
Milk spilt

In today
The price to pay
The yesterday
Won’t have its way

One word

Tomorrow forward


Not my fault, could it be?
No, years go by
No explanation why

I have grown
By my days have blown
And so will they
So why not today?

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!