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Anne: there is a narrow creek, and it divides.

by Andrew S Adams

run, because your feet are precious.
on the tireswing tonight, we twirled until
nausea was the only course of action-
and then we ran.

through the field. the children didnt like it too much,
but then, what are we?

there is a creek running through this park,
and there is a narrow bridge.
we talk about what we wont talk about,
and we sit on what is meant for walking.
this bridge is where the water is rushing
in a lazy offhand manner,
and we just defy it,
we remain static.
we justify it by saying that
we are too old for fun and games;
too old to float away.

so, we find dandelions-
whitened with age. Blow them
to their new home on the wind
to plant the seeds for another
dandelion that will whiten in time,
only to be blown away.

we are children still,
but we are adults-
because this river will not come
and cascade us away.
so as children, we run.


Posted on 05/12/2004
Copyright © 2022 Andrew S Adams

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Anita Mac on 05/14/04 at 06:52 AM

This is so great. There's so much energy... It feels like being a child... If that makes sense. ;o) ~Nita

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