By John Grey
PROMPT — The way I see it ...
What was done to the smallest
was done to you
in grades one through six.
You needed only to look twice
at a bigger boy
and he’d threaten to snap you
like a twig.
You spent little time in the playground
but hours in the woods and fields
watching everything grow.
The grass reached your knees
and the butterfly,
your outstretched hand.
With the advent of beauty,
you were you for life.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, New English Review and Tenth Muse. His latest books include Subject Matters, Between Two Fires and Covert. John has work coming up in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Amazing Stories, and River and South. He writes from Johnston, RI.
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