…
Your sneakers,
your flannel,
these grapes
that snow.
You’re too strong
for these chocolate shavings,
teenage years. Your leather
jacket stings. I know.
I dream of gingerbread
and lipstick liquor, abandoned
shopping carts and lack
-luster things.
It’s a trick, this flick. I’ve got it
licked. But your armchair
roses
……………..sing.
.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Fun inspiration from my Shawna.
I would love to hear the rhyming in this poem as you read it.
It’s begging to be read out loud!
Most poems do. 🙂 Thanks for the read, karifrances.
I love the randomness all sewn together with de magic and again as usual, for me, your closing especially speaks! XO
To me, this is about a grown woman talking to her teenaged self, missing being youthful but also appreciating all she has now, as she sits in her rose-colored chair writing poems. 🙂
Oh! I LOVE that.
Or maybe she just caught the Gingerbread man! 🙂