PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A child, playing hopscotch, sails thru the squares

on the blacktop.

Alone, red-faced, hair dampened from sweat as time evaporates like moisture in the air.



Sun setting on the flat dense horizon, he begins to wonder where his ride could be.

Clouds hover and all laughter sub-sides. He sighs.



Alone, he bends down to tie his worn shoe and hears the tires squeal.

He runs, panting to the sound and sails thru the squares across the blacktop.



Alone, white-faced, hair stiffened from sweat, he sees the taillights fade.

Now, the stars shinning too soon, he knows tonight will feel like eight hundred years, as he lies upon the blacktop.



Refusing the tear that wants to drop, he pretends to

have no fear.



So what if his dad forgot him.

So what if his dad forgets.

So what if he drinks the bottle of gin down again.

So what if he drowns his pain.



They lost her only a year ago, when the cancer came.



A child, playing hopscotch, loose gravel cutting into his knees, breathes the night air.

Tired, dark-faced, hair covered in dirt he looks up to see his father’s pickup drawing near.



No longer a child, hops into the front seat of his dad’s 67 Chevy. In silence they drive home.



While hopscotch innocence is lost again.