PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

     As I lay on the grass, I could see a group of children playing across the street. One was a little girl named Melissa. Her straight, chin-length, blond hair framed her light blue eye and her freckles. Her thin limbs were encased in a bright, shiny, silver shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Her legs flew swiftly across the grass as she ran.

     Suddenly she fell. A moment later, I heard her crying. I watched as she slowly pulled herself up and limped inside. A few minutes later she reappeared with a large bandaid peeking out from the huge hole in the knee of her jeans. She was once again smiling and appeared pain free. All of a sudden her eyes lit up and she dashed across the yard, rushing to greet the older girl who was walking on the sidewalk. I watched as they exchanged a few works, and then the older girl continued down the sidewalk.

     The sounmd of a door slamming echoed over the yard and Melissa turned just in time to see a plump little boy come running down  the stairs and over to the swing set. Laughing, she over and began pushing him. A moment later two of the children ran across the yard and shoved Melissa and the little boy out of the way and took over the swing set. Mailssa's lower lip began quivering, and the little boy began screaming. Immediately, Melissa dashed back into the house. A few moments later her mother came to the door and called the other two children inside. Smiling, Melissa ran back over to the little boy and together they got back on the swing and began pumping their legs faster and faster. Quickly, Melissa began gaining height until it seemed she would fly over the swing and never come back down again. A moment later she jumped off the swing and ran over o the tree next to the swing. After just a moment or two she was at the top of the tree, looking down at the little boy as he swung.