Hand Me down Wagon
I had a red wagon
handed down with twine
unraveling on the handle-
old photos tell me so.
The handle bent
as if to say:
“tie me to a bike,
journey me down any hill.”
Sometimes I’d crash;
black handle impacting
pushing into my chest.
Running home to mom
in pain, she, looking tired
oh so tired.
“Where’s the wagon, Tommy?”
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Post a Comment