A colossal bush of twists and turns

a vision of eternal strife

my hiding place of solitude

where nothing will disrupt

 

sweet-smelling flowers

push up their faces

through prickly, thorny branches

and smile in the warm sunlight

 

tall oaks tower authoritatively

sheltering their children beneath

massive hands of greening leaves

while spring grass tickles their feet

 

small children flit about

on shoeless, noiseless feet

laughing and yelling for simply

the pure joy of living

 

surrounded by two rivers of tar

and urban towers of technology

the green peninsula of the block

was mine to call my own.

 

“The Peninsula” was first published in New Voices 2001 (Number 23).

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