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Young Eyes

Children climb heights of a white, two-story home.

Adjacent to a railroad, whose horn shook brittle stone.

Out the upstairs back window, onto the roofs ledge,

Pushing our weight up, up, an easy child's trudge.

Away from the chaos, away from stranger's steady flow,

We hid on our safe haven rooftop, no one ever would know.

Sunrise to sunset, we'd watch our day go by.

Sitting on our favored edge, looking through our skies.

Brother was too little, we left him inside with the dogs.

My sister and I were blessed to witness

As seasonal sunflowers rose.


If we had to pee, no worries,

This rooftop leads to soil below.

Pee races flowed onto our sunflowers,

No wonder the heights they'd grow.

Stepfather's shoulders was how we traveled one place to another.

We'd teeter-totter within traffic,

On a one-seated bicycle steed.

"Look to see if there's cars to our left!" He'd holler,

"Noo!!!," We'd scream in fright,

Looking back now I wonder,

How did we survive such a delight?


Children yearn to fly from their parent's cage,

Away from drunken, drug-induced ''adult'' rage.

Momma, we ran from, literally. Stepfather was a joke,

But we loved our homeless hillbilly, Uncle Wheely,

He would come, stay, and he would go.

He ventured with us to water parks, to build a bear workshop for fun.

We'd play in the fresh fountain waters,

Momma always was home sitting on her thumbs.


An adult may be an infant, the child be the wise.

But a childhood of infant parents,

Traumatizes young eyes.




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