Poems

Rash Youth

Don’t be in such a hurry, little one,
I said as I bent and patted her head,
Yellow tresses beneath an emerald cap.
She was standing in the grassy median

In the parking lot and as I looked
Down at her, I realized her
Impatience was going to cost her her very life —
Killing frost is forecast for tonight.

 

~ S.K. Orr

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