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).
