This Poem was Submitted By: Lola Blaze On Date: 2000-05-30 22:41:09 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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What Can I Bring?

I chopped onions until their  tears streamed down my cheeks. The old wooden screen door bangs shut and the breeze blows an escaped tendril of  hair that sticks to my face. In the mirror on the wall I can see two black eyes.  I sniffle and then splash  water into my face,  and keep cutting and weeping. The sound of heavy boots come up the back porch steps. As the screen door complains I hear you say, "That's it,"  as you drop the box down.  Mountains of potatoes surround me, and I think I shall never finish. I say to you, "I can't wait until tomorrow."

Copyright © May 2000 Lola Blaze

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