I always like spring
best
you can eat ripe strawberries
from the family market
and seedless cucumbers
and newly picked tomatoes
and precious blackberries
and lots of hot and steaming homemade pies
and delicate raspberries
at the house on the back porch
and listen to the slow country music my daddy hates
outside
behind mommy's shop
and go get the go-carts
with all my brothere
and run- run- run-
back to the house once we run out of gas
and feel the weeds prick our legs
when they poke through our socks
and be cozy
at night by th fire
not only before brother leaves
and heads back home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem