sitting on the lake's shore

fish eggs between my toes

in my hair, too

too dirty to sit around

too peaceful to do anything

other than sit on the lake's shore

digging my toes into the wet sand

moonlight beaming across the water

family

telling embarrassing stories and jokes

laughing till tears stream

they have to brace themselves

to stay out of the fire

sitting on the lake's shore

no happier feeling

you ask us what we think,

we think it's a pain

you ask us why we go,

we go because it's mandatory

what do we think of the teachers?

the teachers are ridiculous

why do we listen?

mostly we don't.

sometimes we do to pass,

only to pass.

if that's what we're here to do,

to pass,

only to pass,

what's the point?

are we not here to learn?
to make the best of it?

maybe we should skip math today,

skip the language arts,

skip science,

skip everything.

maybe we should take the day off.

better yet, take the year off.

why not?

we're only here to pass,

passing gets you nowhere if that's all you're here to do.

teachers have given up hours to help us

all we want to do is pass.

maybe they should skip math today,

skip the language arts,

skip science,

skip everything

because they care

and all we want to do is pass.

i'll always remember our walks in the field

we'd spill our hearts to each other.

your shoulder would be wet with my tears,

you'd hold me for eternity, it seemed,

you'd smile all the while,

glad to be of help.

i'd call you,

“i'm scared, there's someone outside.”

five minutes later, a red F-150 would

speed into the driveway.

those crazy rides,

laughing, speeding down 41.

you're a legend in my book.

I'm waiting for inspiration for a poem. I guess I could post one of my old ones, but it's hard to be confident about my old work. Oh, well, I'll find one to put  up.

swinging on a branch

the energy of a child

fills my veins

a great time to be a leaf.

up and down

fluttering in the breeze

admiring my shape, my brownness

in the mirror of a sky,

proud to be free

and proud to be brown.

lying on the ground,

one of many just like me

as children giggle,

jumping into the pile one by one,

crumbs, red dust

mingling with the soil,

no longer a leaf

just a memory.