Poetry by Rachel Spraggins

Facing South,
The Sun blooming over to our left as well as the wind
Flowing like silk curtains on an open window.
The leaves crunch underfoot like joints popping
And our breath dissipating in the cold like petals from a dying flower.
Our childhood was on its last course of innocence,
Onto and into adulthood.
We made our way back down into main camp,
The dread of growing up thick in our throats like a dry swallowed pill.
The thoughts of taxes and home ownership and living alone
Fill heads up like the flash flood we saw last night.
However,
This morning we are still children and careless in our fight against this.

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