The year of polka dotsI remember the turtle I sat on
While being pushed back in to the sea,
Terrified of waves and what might be.
Stupid, inadequate thing.
The polka dots were all around
Like the sun, shining on all that was white,
Blinding us until midnight,
When the bats floated under the bridge.
I remember all the cold showers
and how the stars seemed to make sense.
The wrinkles on her face seemed smooth,
But without me, she always was a killer.
The polka dots were all around -
These little spots of joy and sorrow,
Red - like strawberry jam, spilled on cotton -
Sown into a summer dress.
You were near, to caress the pain away
And every heartache was erased with ice cream.
I was brave and the world stood still,
While the people below got spitted on.
The polka dots were all around,
dancing in circles, blown up like balloons,
That are filled up with human stories
And freshly wipped cream.
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 187 times
Written on 2012-05-22 at 22:10
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