by Jim Benz

Ben stood by the creek, skipping stones.
Under his shoes, the ground was wet and muddy.
Despite a cool breeze, Ben wore no jacket.
Donna, his mother, always complained about this.
Haven’t you got any sense? she would ask.
Afraid not, he’d reply.


Posted on 05/21/2007
Copyright © 2020 Jim Benz

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/25/07 at 07:23 PM

you are splitting my infinitives!

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