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Last Saturday
May 25, 2018
The summer sun lays low
with an aroma of salt in light mist.
Seven o’clock.
The glazed realms of cotton clouds hover
and suddenly,
a whirl of wind
sweeps soggy leaves
and brochures from broken down doors.
Beyond worn hats and empty buckets,
near the light of the alley,
a curious girl stares back at you.
And suddenly,
the rising of the sun.
© Raven I., Galesburg, IL
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I hope people will be more aware of their surroundings after reading my poem and realize that the small moments in life truly matter the most in terms of memory.