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Memory
January 26, 2010
When I was four
I had nocked on the door
at my grandmothers house
we cought firey fire flies
the wind was howling
yet there were none
we tried again another night
yet there were none
for a final yet third time the night was coudy
yet there were none
we were searching like we were blood hounds
we felt like we were blind bats
because there were none
on one last and final visit for the rest to have we found our firey fire flies
the were our eyes.
© Kevan B., Beaverton, OR
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