Watermelon
By rmerwin
I remember pieces of my childhood. Sticky little memories dim and distant Colors like red stand out the most cuts, curtains, the kitchen table I learned to write at... Where does the time go? I remember having watermelon for the first time, sticky little fingers dripping juice onto the table, my mother, so young, so happy We chomped bright red flesh, spit jet black seeds, juice stinging onto my torn elbows, onto the floor As I colored Easter eggs with my children this year I wondered, will they remember me so fondly, have I created those moments for them?Yet again, not a poem, but a sentimental thought. Written April 13th, 2002 © on Apr 13 2002 02:37 PM PST, Rick Merwin 0 • 10
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"I remember pieces of my childhood. ..."