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).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s