This is a beautiful poem. Your imagery is really lovely without seeming to wordy.
You might try expanding it to encompass more detail of the seasonal changes, though it's wonderful the way it is.
Sometimes short really is the best way to go.
Blankets of crisp snow
conceals the concrete of man;
I love this verse. It places this image in my mind of the city after a hard snowfall when everything's silent.
Great job! Write more! Can't wait to read more of your work.
This is a very good start with some nice insights into life in another country.
You've laid the timeline of your story out well. When I try to write autobiographical, I have a tendency to jump around and it can get confusing. You're keeping the events in order despite how your thoughts must jump ahead when you're writing. Good job.
I would suggest that you spend some time on your imagery. Help us, the readers, to really see, hear and feel what you felt. Set the scene.
For example:
"But luckily for us who were non-kuwaitis, we got a chance to escape to our homeland. We boarded a bus to Iraq and flew to our country from there."
This is good, but could be so much more. Take us into your home. What was it like before you left? Could you smell your mothers cooking? Dad's pipe tobacco if he smoked? Were the shelves covered in knickknacks or clean kept? What would we see if we looked out your windows? What sounds did you hear every day in the neighborhood? Kids laughing? Cars going by? Trains?
When you had to leave because of the Iraqis, what was it like? Do you remember your parents being scared? Angry? Sad? What did you feel? Scared, maybe confused?
Let me illustrate what I mean. The first place we lived when we moved to mainland America was Naples NY. A little vinyard town in the hills. Our house was a modified trailer with a big deck and the grape vines from the local vinyard tumbled over into our backyard.
It was cramped in our house. My mom had knickknacks everywhere and this monstrous standing lamp in the living room that she loved and my father hated. My dog used to bound through the living room and knock it over with his tail routinely. I think my dad was hoping he'd break it.
In the fall, the air was full of the smells of ripening grapes and wine. It was this wonderful sweet smell you could almost taste. I used to walk out among the vines and eat grapes while day dreaming and listening to the sounds of the winery and our little village.
Flesh out your life for us. Just a few sentences can draw your reader in, give them a vision they can see, hear and even smell.
I really love what you've written so far. I'll be keeping an eye on this for more. You've made a great start. Keep going!
This is fantastic. I really love the end where, for a moment, you expect the boys to take what's left of the money and instead they ante up like heros to help her.
My only suggestion right now would be to work on your imagery a bit. Help me to see and hear Grove Ohio. Does it have a particular smell, where they live? I live in Columbus Ohio. The north side of the city always smells a bit like beer and skunks because of the Budweiser plant. Little things like that can help draw your readers in, make them feel like they can really see it.
Your characters are great. I'd love to read more about these kids!
All in all a fantastic job!
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Can't wait to read more of your work.