Summer seeps through the spokes,
of your baby blue bicycle wheels.
From the sidewalk,
I stare,
through long lashes,
and tinted glasses,
a popsicle in my pastel pout.
I hope you’ll fall,
graze your knee,
tumbling in my direction,
so I can peek,
through tinted glasses,
and eager eyes,
at what you hide,
in your toy chest.
Take me to Toyland,
on the very next train.
Wind in the white ribbons,
my mother hoped could keep me pure,
as we lean out the window,
making faces at the future.
I’m tentatively tempted,
to give in to growing up.
Discovery is a toy for two,
but once we play,
we can never return,
to being just friends,
or being just strangers,
or being untouched,
by the claws of candy concupiscence.
You lay out the board,
like you’ve done this before.
Mystic, merry, mistakes are made,
your intentions spilled in my lap,
crawling up and down my legs,
as I coax myself from the ceiling,
with promises that nobody will know,
and that all the cool kids are doing it.
Then,
it is done,
and I am torn from the grounds of Toyland.
Marched to the gates,
by beanie babies,
who hold my white dress,
spotted with my innocence,
above my head,
monkeys playing the drums of my demise.
I can never return again,
and I don’t have your heart,
to remember you by,
because you only wanted to play,
for the afternoon.
Enter The Poetry Competition here
Order “Kissing Boys, Just For The Thrill” here
Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here
Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here
RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse
Are You Afraid?
RECENT BLOGS
Release Day
2AM Music Video
Why I Hate Dating In The Modern World
COME FIND ME
Twitter
Instagram
Ask Jen
Facebook
Patreon
Tumblr
Amazon
Podcast
Spotify
YouTube
Sincerely, Jennifer x 
Leave a Reply