MEMORIES ON THE RUN

This is a poem that will go in my book Memories on the Run to the times when me and my three year old were running and hiding from abuse.

I see the card table, long and steel.

They bring back memories of yards with rocks, stones, and

An odd shaped house.

I’m out front trying to look regular.

The table is all I have to do this.

We have, or present to have a function.

It makes us seem more normal.

We are having a function.

Perhaps a party.

Perhaps we are just playing.

Will the table rust from the weather.

It looks so lonely out there.

Perhaps this table will help us.

It will helps us to bear to new airs.