Your Poem

by Lyla Forest Butler

You slept on the hopscotch game outlined blue

Chalk always ends up on your cheeks in spots

That I can't reach anymore. I’ve grown too 

Big for the playground & for listening 

To the sounds of poetry in the street 

& stooping down to pray to that lonely 

God. I can only hear the sounds of them 

Their laughs in yellow, tears in red & some

Leftover kisses in pink. & I think 

Nostalgia is killing me. Please find here

Enclosed with all my love, words 

To save me when I fade away. Thank you.

Thank you for all those peanut-butter days, 

For records spinning, for the Brooklyn kiss.