Growing

A poem I wrote for a creative writing class a little while ago.  This was my favorite summer as a child; the one just before I started kindergarten.  It's a happy odd feeling to look at the first time I got the wind knocked out of me with fondness.  

Growing

Mother taught more than the flowers to grow that summer

Now, walking beside the beaten path, I wish to help them live

Feeling a grin, I remember when I learned that missing the mark 

Leads to a dirty face and futile breaths

I can almost feel the porch railing in my stomach again

It’s funny now

Mother lifted my head and planted my feet

I learned to make things grow that summer

Walking beside the beaten path I see the flowers remember their lessons

They’re still growing