The First Day
Hiding my face at the gate
I wait
for something to pull me
from the inertia
of my fear.
Until it builds to breaking
through
and off I run
to join the fray
on this, my first day.
Sixty years past
I still remember
the wonder of pre-school
at our neighbor’s home
right beside the lake.
And so I think
you too will remember this
as the first thing
you really had
of your own.
(for Tyrome - 9/5/23)
Copyright © James Moore | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment