December months bring rains and storms.
They are called monsoons.
A child trotted along behind her
They trudged muddy thoroughfare,
Searching a place of communication.
A mistake! She was given a wrong direction!
Clutched the child’s scrawny arm,
She recited her a slur.
On bended knees, she shook her with compulsion.
continued the action with condemnation.
The child, with fear and confusion,
Trembled from aberration.
Warm tears rolled down
and joined raindrops on her face;
A memory so vivid... thus could not be erased.


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S'identifier Commentaires...
presque 5 ans

thanks for reading! I'm glad you liked it!

Charlotte B. Williams
presque 5 ans

Interesting story Imrouge, I like It !!!

plus de 5 ans

Thanks for reading my poem/s and for commenting!

steven t.
plus de 5 ans

oh the trauma of youth that binds our memories for a lifetime!...vivid memory nicely blended into your poem...

Préféré par...

lowercasemmmmmm Cory Garcia Charlotte B. Williams steven t.

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