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Friday, May 4, 2012


Trudging along single file,
I saw the shorties
Held captive by their adult superiors.
The sounds of small feet
Shuffled on the sidewalk
To and fro.
I tilted my head to the side
And frowned at the looks of them.
Heads hung low to the ground,
As low as they could be.
Those poor, tiny prisoners.
Bound together by rope and cheap fabric,
They were united.
United until the end...
Or until they saw their mommies and daddies.
I'm glad I never was one of those Cabbage-Patch kids.
Trudging along single file,
The ants came marching in.


  1. Very dark. Usually when you see children they are on the happy side of the spectrum and you did a great job of darkening the scene. Daycare realness! Where are they going? What are they going? I think there is a lot of great description and set up, but I think it could use some focus.

  2. Rachel,

    I dig this and I dug our conversation. I think you have good poetic instincts and know how to play with a poem like this to make it even more instructive-delightful.

    Make sure to switch up the grammar at the beginning and give me another metaphorical image or two. Are any of the boys in striped shirts or orange? Are any of the young girls whistling mournful tunes? Is the teacher a warden?