Merlin Joyce // THE BACKYARD

Saturday afternoon,

A blank slate placed in front of an reckless child,

Freshly cut grass grows into a weeded jungle day by day

The sun was only a summersault away,

And I reached up to the sky with my short stubby fingers

No one dared to whisper the truth to a girl who feared nothing.

All the different sounds buzzing around me, curiosity sinking into my body,

making me lusty for adventure.

Sheltered by a white picket fence,

a scattered array of daffodils sway with the winds every swish.

The lively leaves of the tree were rustling to create a faint whisper amid the muggy heat,

as they were crunching under the soles of my feet into sharp edges

and beads of sweat fell onto the parched porch like loose thread from a sweater.

But even then as the sun shrank into the endless night as if to hide from the darkness

I watched as the moon hung itself from the twinkling stars,

yet still, no one dared to whisper the truth to a girl who feared nothing.

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