there was something about
that barefooted madness
something about that wistful
waist-high wishing and wooshing
in the woods,
Running to the water,
Running from the sand.
One always dreams of brighter skies
when toes are tickled-
but when hitting the water-
one always feels they
are just a blade of grass.
Tickle your toes. . .
I was just awarded the Perfect Poet Award from Promising Poet's Cafe/Jingle Poetry. I'm excited, I want to nominate everybody bu...
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