a long dirt yard,
dirt
because of the dogs.
but it was
a battlefield for our
toy soldiers
our tanks,
our guns.
every war was won.
it was never even
close.
we spent
hours
upon hours in the dirt,
making
war noises,
grunts and groans,
bullets flying, bombs
exploding
until
my mother
yelled
through the screen door.
wash up,
dinner is on.
No comments:
Post a Comment