Best Childhoodred Poems
Game boys
Mob the juke box
all baseball caps backwards;
singing to the loud rap music.
Lights a flashing, toes a tapping, smiling,
rosy red cheeks and fire red jerseys.
Juke box strobes, boy laughing
a trio of kids
sing too.
We lived in Charleston, West Virginia high up on a hill;
I wanted a Christmas present on which I’d catch some thrills.
Wooden slats anchored to curved blades of crimson red;
My fingers were crossed - Santa would bring a Red Flyer sled.
A rope in the handle bars to pull it up the mountain side,
I’ll wax down each metal blade to help make sure that it glides.
Snow we have a plenty up on the mountain top;
Laying on my tummy, dragging feet to make it stop.
You push on the handle piece in an attempt to make it steer,
But gravity is in control of that it is quickly clear.
You sled all day and then thaw out by the burning fire,
Thanking Santa and his elves for the new Red Flyer.