Perfect Place

Walking on solid ground,
Made of grass and dirt.
I raise my head and look around,
At everything around me.
I begin to discover everything that surrounds me,
By nature and by man.
There are TALL green-leafed trees,
And black walnuts the size of a fist.
There’s a ‘Lincoln Log’ type cabin
And a big, steep, brown, dirt hill behind it.
Off to the side is a stream of water,
Thin and long.
And off that tiny stream,
The sun surely shines bright.
I look up towards the shining sun.
OWWW!!! I’m blinded for a second,
Blinking fast.
Ok. I’m good. I got my sight back
Suddenly, I feel somehow
Attached to it. Connected.
I feel happy about something.
Excited about nothing.
There’s kids everywhere,
Yelling and howling. Having fun.
A cool November breeze rolls by
Sparking questions in my mind.
What’s it like here in the summer?
How long has it been standing?
Will it be here in 10 or 20 years from now?
Will it bring joy to kids like me half a century from now?
My response:
I don’t know. Nobody does.
The past is the past
And the future is the future.
We can’t change the past
Only brighten the future.
So do good things NOW to help this place.
And the future will be rewarding.
If you ask me to describe this place.
I could do it in only one word
Perfect
Perfect
Perfect





Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

Joey Jackson said...
Feb. 23, 2011 at 7:58 pm
this poem sucks it dosn't even deserve to be called a poem
 
bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback