I love to write poetry. I live in the state of Michigan.
Wide sided window large enough
for the children to slide through
running while hiding away
from the pain
Switching from stepdad's hand
yelling for them to get back there
stopping long enough to get water
from the pump up the road
river running down the road towards
the woods
footbridge near the forge by the water
climbing upward the children hidden
by the rocks on the ledge
Cabin made of stone in place
by the children
Food in place
setting down in the place
Hidden away for fifteen years
Coming up seeing if stepdad had passed
away from the horrible day.