Away from the others
That’s where you’d find me
Hiding from brothers.
Just a skinny little girl
Of five or six
Getting away from the world
And the neighbor kid’s tricks.
“You’ll break your arm!”
My mom would cry.
“Only if I fall!”
Was my confident reply.
Favorite of all was the little plum tree
That shaded the play yard
For my sister and me.
In the spring the blossoms would cover the branches
I’d climb even higher, taking my chances
Up to where the limbs were small
I’d shake them violently
And the petals would fall
Raining down flowers
I’d squeal “Here it comes!”
My mother would sigh
“We’ll never have plums.”