My First Memory

By , Hartland, WI
Eyes filled with water,
Like the pool in the back,
Like the sprinkler in the yard.
Waves of air from the fan hit me,
Hit me like a freight train,
That brought with it a tear each time.

Laughter of my friends rang through the window,
Like back feed from a microphone,
They rang through my head.
I wondered if they would ever come back,
Ever talk to me again,
Or leave me in the dark cold room.





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