Reid@YWP

An emerald sweep

of thin spears stretches

through the garden,

past the rough concrete

platform decorated with chairs

of red banded with white,

along the little reservoir

of spitting water,

Getting up, growing older 

younger days just blew right over 

gone in a flash, knowing I'll never gain them back 

now I'm always in a dash 

running from class to class 

When I was born I was promised the world 
But I was born into a world 
Where my parents grew up to only survive 
Where family to my mom was merely blood 
But to my father was more than life 

My bones no longer have need to show

but bend when all the seasons change,

Come spring I have new seeds to sow