Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Writing Prompt: You Are in the Backyard

I'm in the backyard at Ma Ma's house
letting thin spikes of Bermuda grass tickle my toes
as the scent of musty, soaked earth floats under my nose.
while the metal swing creaks on its rust-spotted frame
making the summer air brush through my long, brown mane
as I watch lightning bugs dance in the muggy haze
and weave in and out of the tree branch maze.
I'm giddy and careless and fighting sleep
and blissfully unaware of this memory I'll keep.


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