Bare Hearted
Bare Hearted
Anne Morin
Moving backward in time,
there is new sunshine,
the forbidden delight
of disobedient barefooted prancing
through cool grasses,
freshly green and waiting
to caress tiny warm toes
and naughty little hearts.
A wicked world marches on
but not between our clotheslines
hung with spanking clean white sheets
flapping in the chilly spring breeze
where joyous abandon
cannot be kept inside
as cold, slender blades tickle our feet
and an ecstatic younger sister screeches,
“Look at us, Grandma!
Bare-hearted foots!”
Grandma’s switch was a lesson that stung.
Copyright: Anne Morin, 2007
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