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Rated: E · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #2119900
A poem about a girl I knew in grade school; her mother shot her father.
There were candlelight curtains and evergreen trees,

and the house was as white as an ice floe.

Inside was a father who buried himself in his work,

a mother whose everything stopped at the walls,

a girl who said, Nothing, when asked what was wrong,

and outside, the evergreens, silent as snow.

She sat two rows over and we passed notes in class.

It was Friday and tomorrow was matinee day.

The father worked overtime behind a closed door,

and the mother buried herself in an ice-colored room.

The girl who said, Nothing, said, Sorry, can't go,

and the evergreens, silent, looked down at their shoes.

My yard had oak trees.

My world had tomorrows.

Some people said fireworks, some people said backfire,

on Monday, the desk two rows over was empty.

People who say, for the sake of the children, don't know.

In a heartbeat, everything stopped at the walls.

Outside, the evergreens, silent as snow.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2119900-Outside-the-Evergreens