Get Rid Of The Advertisements

stop.
 
I thought the goldenrod
made it look a little bit like home,
like in a sad way,
the way makeup when you're sixty
reminds you of when you were seventeen;
yeah,
there were days that drifted by
like pipe smoke,
that old man's vanilla tobacco.
sitting on the back porch
and watching the day sleep away
watch the night wake up
and the fireflies come out
and fiddle about in jars,
fixed like a kaleidoscope,
took the telescope and said we
saw the moon,
we touched it, too, we touched
the outer skirts of the universe.
rounded up the stars in a drawstring bag
to show to mother,
have 'er hang it up on the refrigerator
where all honorable
things have to be.

By heyachristina

© 2010 heyachristina (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


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