Next door neighbor.


Patrick



The cowboy next door
with the blazing red hair.

I remember when you
came across your yard and mine
to tell me I was rude for eating
in front of you.
I still didn't share my ice cream.

Your sister squealed on you,
you ate dry cat food out of the kitty bowl.
And only believed in Santa
for a couple years,
while I held out longer.

Covered head to toe in freckles,
I was so jealous, I had so few.

What happened to you?

Last I heard you were a musician
playing in some band.

All the best, all the best.


August 17, 2009
© Anne Westlund




Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 570 times
Written on 2009-08-25 at 07:52

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ahh,bringing back childhood years
loved this write

cyndi
2009-08-25