Pounding a hammer
against a nail is
a sensible skill.
High overhead, then low,
a hard hit.
High overhead, then low,
a hard hit.
Until a sharp intense scream
stops hammer's motion.
Dripping red drops of blood seen
splattered on paved sidewalk
while hammer's crash is heard.
Blood stained pavement,
shaking hands, awe struck fear
swells within.
My six-year old friend,
screaming, crying, bleeding,
her hand held covering eye.
Has her eye been poked out?
Her eye?
Her right eye?
Panicked, I run to hide
refusing to speak,
to admit,
to apologize
for a hurt I caused that
leaves her with
a gash, a scar,
never to forget
even though summer's
sunset continues to fill
the backyard
year after year after year.
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Author Notes
An attempt to write a longer poem with emotion
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