POETRY, Uncategorized


We were dam builders,
my sister and I.
In the beginning,
We would build came with mud
To make our swimming holes
In the creeks that surrounded our farm
In the mountains.

We’d spend most of the day
Repairing the spots
Where the water’s broken through;
So that, when the sun
Began to go below the horizon,
Signalling the time
To go home and clean up,
We’d never had a chance to swim.

By the next afternoon,
When we’d finished our chores
Around the farm in the morning;
We’d run back the find out Dam gone,
Washed away during the night
By the water migrating to the ocean;
And we’d have to start all over again.

There forth,
We began building our came with stone.
To this day,
I still only build with
Rock, stone, brick, and concrete.

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