the wind swirls angrily at my dust
my bicycle wheels churning faster than
the leaves in my hair can rattle, than my sweaty fingers can shake
clouds teased out like great gusted cotton balls, roaming
the special fall blue (they won't be there for long)
the blue that goes perfectly with the trees
and stuffy, pinking noses, though
now I can't feel mine -
uphill forgotten, the wind
catches me on the cusp of down
blows a bubble in my stomach
stretches my throat for me.
And I fly down,
smiling, giggling, chortling, laughing all out,
the bubble pops between my chattering teeth -
I am slowing -
and the wind steals my breath in spite.
Author notes
gyahhhh. Poem conversion of an essay I wrote for English. Be harsh, please.
Written November 20th, 2004
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Comments
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hmm ,....i liek the read it biatch ..but it gave a mi a whole diff. impression on what i was about to read but still good poem anywasy
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