Eli MorenoDrew Poems

A harm to the youth
Is a bruise to the future;
Hindering to the youth
Only hinders the future’s
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Life is short,
Yes,
Some even say too short.
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You are the optimist
The dancer
The rolling tide,
Up and down
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That guitar,
Over there,
Over in the other side of the world
It sounds like it’s calling me
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Being a pacifist,
I do not wash my hands
With soap,
Nor do I trim trees
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These autumn days with the air waltzing slow enough to be cold,
Yet not stagnant enough to bite the skin,
Have me frequenting a coat and patio set.
Before I sit, I breathe that swaying air
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Walking on days like today
helps me forget about some things.
Walking with two mobile mutts
helps me forget about most things.
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Sundays,
and various holidays
that make the weekend longer,
are becoming my least favorite days.
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You can stand there,
arms akimbo and a lackluster smile,
talking to him for hours
but the elephant in the room
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With my two fingers
As an Olympic figure skater
And your flat little tummy as my rink,
I haven’t felt so safe skating on thin ice.
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