Sitting on My Stoop

May 6, 2008
By Lauren Lawrence, Hbg, PA

Sitting on my stoop
the warm air rushing to hit my legs
My mom cornrows my hair.
My popsickles drips
red puddles on the sidewalk
and I stomp on random ants
proceeding through uneven concrete

An old gallon ice cream container
full of vibrant barettes
and shiny hair things
keep my braids from unraveling
Mom pushes my head right-
"keep still"
Her long fingers
rhythmically weave my thick tresses

Music blares down the street
Dogs from around the corner bark
Charcoal biscuits dumped
into a gasless grill
lighter fluid sprays
My flip flops stick to my feet
and I reach my toes
into cool blades of grass
ice cream truck-
mosquito bites spotted with Calamine
I wish things were always that simple


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



Parkland Book