Tonight's Poet Corner: Still Feels Like Home To Me
Still Feels Like Home To Me
by Belinda Roddie
We went back to that little old town.
Dug for mud bugs on the edge of the creek.
Skipped rocks across water murkier than
our own childhoods. Kissed when no one
was driving by.
She wore her father's straw hat as we sat
outside the cabin, her hand nestled
into mine. And the August heat made us
melt into each other like sticky molasses,
unyielding to the wind or the rain. We held,
we fused, we were a part of the greenery.
by Belinda Roddie
We went back to that little old town.
Dug for mud bugs on the edge of the creek.
Skipped rocks across water murkier than
our own childhoods. Kissed when no one
was driving by.
She wore her father's straw hat as we sat
outside the cabin, her hand nestled
into mine. And the August heat made us
melt into each other like sticky molasses,
unyielding to the wind or the rain. We held,
we fused, we were a part of the greenery.
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