Jun 16
izzylaramee's picture

Language poem

My mom taught me
To speak
Portuguese,
The language of 
My family.
My twin cousins whose
Pink glasses tumble down their
Noses like an Arctic avalanche.
My aunt and uncle
Whose airy bread 
Baked with calloused and crinkled
Fingers, I still miss
Three years later.
My grandpa whose English is
Broken, twisted, and underdeveloped
Dances to the
American 2000’s hip hop
He doesn’t 
Understand.
All the things I've learned
To appreciate
After years of stubborness
Make it all worth it.
izzylaramee's picture
About the Author: izzylaramee
MSG / CONTACT
RECENT LOVES
Author has not loved anything.
RECENT COMMENTS
Author has not made any comments.