My Dearest Brooklyn
An Anne G Original
A jukebox of memories in my head,
dearest Brooklyn, you and me.
Lanky boys with cow-licked locks,
freckled girls and ponytails.
Big black cars with white-walled tires;
scooters, bicycles – roller skates.
Chalk stained streets and made-up games;
marbles, sticks and bottle caps.
A skip, a hop, some soda pop;
memories at a nickels’ drop.
The sun, the moon – a silly tune;
dearest Brooklyn, you and me.
JUNE 2016 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Why write?
I write because I am:
Driven to distraction by the inequities of the society in which we live.
Motivated by cruelty, abuse, ignorance and indifference.
My intention: To poke, prod and provoke!
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." - Oscar Wilde
I write because I am:
Driven to distraction by the inequities of the society in which we live.
Motivated by cruelty, abuse, ignorance and indifference.
My intention: To poke, prod and provoke!
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." - Oscar Wilde
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