Poetry Challenge: Days 7 and 8


I smell cinnamon in the air
the sweet scent of nutmeg and the laughter coming through the window
outside to where I am sitting,
waiting for snowflakes and the temperature to drop

I feel it in the air tonight
the season’s changing
the leaves are falling
changing color and my hair is beginning
to feel thin and

a sign
that we are near
to shorter days
longer nights

and I can wear my scarves
in reds, greens, fuzzy and silk
not that I have a silk scarf
but it would be nice.


My locked garden is safe in the backyard
behind the shed and swingset
the dogs can never sniff it out
I crawl under the gate
the neighbors never know (because they’re dead–
their garden is forever locked
but I am tiny
so my parents say
I am so tiny
they always tell me to eat
that the monsters will take me away
I know they’re lying because they giggle when I run away crying
but I don’t believe them anymore
because here, in my locked garden of roses,
daffodils, plum trees, and
the monsters stay with me
and we giggle at how silly
grown-ups can be.

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