Oct 14
poem challenge: Skirts
madeleineT's picture

Margo's Summer

It was October, but Margo was still wearing short summer skirts. 
She must be cold; we all were, in the barely 50 degree weather. 
It was the middle of fall, the leaves turning, the pumpkins growing, and everyone, except her, was layering up in their bulky sweaters and long pants. 
What is she doing? everyone would ask. Isn’t she cold?
Some would make fun of her, 
laughing about her bare legs still exposed this late.
But still, Margo would walk down the street, the bright colors of her skirts twirling in the wind, and the sounds of her flip flops echoing down the hallways.

We used to be friends. 
I remember how we would spend summer together,
the same summer skirts and sandals.
Margo with her confidence for anything, 
Jumping, dancing, and skipping around. 
She was always the life of the party. 

Margo didn’t care what others thought about her. 
I always secretly wished I had her confidence. 
Dancing in the rain, standing on tables, everything. 
Still, it seemed Margo never could get over the end of summer. 
And she never would. 
I wish she would. 

No one else understood what happened. 
No one knows what happened. 
No one, except me. 

Margo would always be wearing her short summer skirts.
Because Margo died this summer.

 
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