A poem I wrote for my sister when I missed her

15 Apr

The elephant is six months old today.
Its trunk doesn’t touch the ground yet.
It wishes it could hear
what the adults are saying,
their voices obscured by the wind
and their flapping ears.

He (it’s a boy) closes his eyes
and feels the mud on them.
He slowly rolls onto his back
and feels the water on it.
No one is playing here today
all rolling, staring, shifting
with four feet straight in the air
or two, idle, waiting.
He is six months old today
and wishes he could hear.


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