Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Where I grew up, every corner,
Had a cast iron sewer grate…
Clogging with leaves every winter,
And bad report cards, it willingly ate.
The gutters, carried on currents,
Our toy boat built from a leaf…
Every dream of me sailing the oceans,
A result of planned flood relief.
Now I live on an island,
It rains here most every day…
I’ve lost my imagination;
Every current drains into a bay.