I Remember

By the time I was twelve she assumed It has not been eaten, Eaten by those whom liked to eat. As soft and as pliable as a tongue once was Youth is, To feel pain was not in our young thoughts. We didn't have shoe's, not out of need But what's necessity? Tree trunks, but what of color specifically, And pretty green bushes, with thorns. There were other times where we forgot And as wound up as tight as a spring, The handle time forgot when then released. And on her breasts chalk Was mixed with snow, one could think we were English. Her door with numbers, Was painted red and mine was purple and blue. Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2018