The boy turned quickly in the weeds
Once he'd touched my braided hair
Yelling that I was now "it"
Which I thought was quite unfair
The boy sent notes to all his friends
Filled with plans of a great deed
But I just scoffed and rolled my eyes
Doubting that he would succeed
The boy ran down the crowded halls
Knocking my books to the floor
He yelled sorry, as he zoomed by
Racing out the exit door
The boy grinned down into my face
When at last he'd passed my height
But when he said that I was cute
His words did not quite seem to bite
The boy gave help to me in math
When my grades began to fall
And he did not make me feel dumb
Or like I was two feet tall
The boy took help from me in turn
When Spanish seemed like a great feat
And he thanked me and even grinned
When he did not face defeat
And the boy gently grabbed my hands
When I tugged my twisted strands
Claiming I was smarter still
Than my dream school understands
And as we walked off to my house—
A path we both had often ran—
I wondered how I somehow missed
The boy I knew become a man
YOU ARE READING
Poems to Leave Streaks of Ink
PoetryAnd I'd rage at the monsters, But that's the task of fools, Who cannot bring themselves to know, Monsters are humans' tools... I write poems like this, just usually longer...feel free to give some of them a read:)
