Tuesday, July 5, 2011
A Worried Whirl
Summer cleared the path for those in pursuit
fading in the distance as the boys took their mark.
Mine flew over the hurtles like a racehorse,
his long limbs reaching with each forward step.
Dry flecks of freshly mown grass turned
and churned all around as dirty feet
tossed and flossed the greens.
I watched from the front window
as he slipped out of my view--
all I saw was the baby he used to be.
Could his foot be kicking my gut?
Was the siren just my worried mind?
Prompt/ wordle inspiration: Sunday Whirl
Posted at Poets United as well.