Tuesday, May 14, 2013
A poem about spring
The sun peaks.
Crowds wander into the open.
Three strikes upon the happy clock.
They’ve had enough of school life.
“The beach” gives the wanted escape.
Games litter space between buildings.
Like “young volcanoes” they won’t stop.
“Buckeyes” play the same, no question.
Summer comes but ”spring” never leaves.
The sun sets.
Darkness dawns upon the students’ “beach.”
Crowds thin out.
None will forget about tomorrow.