fall mornings in the suburbs

the neighbourhood girls who live across the street,

under five, both of them,

tromp through the early morning rain with enthusiasm.

their frilly, high-necked nightgowns flap about their little legs,

their hair waves about wildly,

and their cheeks glow with the cold and the fresh-from-sleep flush.

they’re wearing daddy’s slippers, which are too big for their feet.

their high little voices chatter away

as they search for the perfect tomato in the kitchen garden.

the unintelligible chatter possesses an innocent joy i’ve long since lost,

but i cherish the happy memories

that their echoing laughter brings.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things can start to make sense. Once I have both myself and the universe figured out, I plan to take up macrame. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

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