i work at a camp...or what i call battle
i suit up every morning with my sneakers ready for chasin, my bandades ready to heal
to combat my little monsters that keep me on my toes
i smile at their food stained cheecks and toothless grins
becuase for these few hours of everyday they need me
for these few hours i'm MISS Jordyn, not that 16 year old teenager
i become their nurse and teacher their play toy and all knower
they make me laugh and scream
and when i think their content in the way they are, i sit down and close my eyes
i hear their little feet pounding the pavement and the swish of their jump ropes and their determination to beat the last score
i hear the boys playin basketball like they have 5000 fans in the stands
i hear the younger kids tryin to keep up with the bigger kids ready to grow up already
and i think about when things were simpler
when freedom was jumpin of a swing, and pinky swears and double dog dares were the real thing
when it means he likes you if he pulls your hair, and do over ment you got another chance
now my feet pound the pavement for jobs and college tours and my determination to beat the competitions score
There are no fans anymore cuase your on your on… This now is the real thing
But every now and then you can find me jumpin of that swing in the park or bowing to my stands full of fans
I open my eyes at the sound of MISS Jordyn, and I go to my monsters to help them enjoy the simpler times
because reality and the real thing changes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem