The dirt rises up slowly,
and the seeds replenish through the sun’s lemonade while the wind whispers lullabies,
rocking back and forth,
told by some common companion.
his hooded figure tells her
she can escape on a hot air balloon lined with sweet candy,
but when she enters, he’s eaten it all.
Wrinkled and old,
the limbs dig into the dirt with deep hurt aged by roots that Twister couldn’t unclench.
And she rocks back and forth,
but she never stopped drinking the lemonade.
*Sub-consciously inspired by one of my favorite poems “In Just-” by e e Cummings:
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
when the world is puddle-wonderful
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and