A Wall In the Woods
The wall would not hinder my fall,
the tumble i take for memory’s sake.
Childhood sees fairylands, vast —
but as small as a neighborhood lake.
The woods with its creek and crawfish,
an older kid pinching friend’s shirt, kicking
breathtakingly loud over the ground.
The girl ought not get her feet wet,
too sensitive and shy, not a tomboy.
We’d run back to the consoling wall,
with bunny paws, spring to our mamas’ ground,
never speak of tattletales…
after all, it was my friend’s fault
for perusing the big boys fort.
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