We drove south on York Road, passing the large brick house that always stole my attention. I peered past my mother's arms and the steering wheel, to take another long, unblinking look. The exterio ... [+]
The summers aren't so lonely on Plum Island.
It's me, the plum trees, the plum birds,
and the occasional plum song.
Sometimes I miss my studio apartment in the city,
my rainy bay windows, my boots with the hole
in the heel, my mug that says You Are Awesome
in big black letters like a newspaper clipping.
But I don't get the newspaper on Plum Island.
I just get a bit of plum sun, lay down
on the plum sand, write in big plum letters
You Are Awesome and watch the plum waves
wash the words away.
It's me, the plum trees, the plum birds,
and the occasional plum song.
Sometimes I miss my studio apartment in the city,
my rainy bay windows, my boots with the hole
in the heel, my mug that says You Are Awesome
in big black letters like a newspaper clipping.
But I don't get the newspaper on Plum Island.
I just get a bit of plum sun, lay down
on the plum sand, write in big plum letters
You Are Awesome and watch the plum waves
wash the words away.