where is my chalk where are those old streets
bamboozling,
full of flossy dreams
and children playing
hopscothing
with purple cheeks
and ignited eyes
where is my chalk
let me draw a pattern
transcrossing
with memories
tuff-ing
lav(a)ing
agglomerating
That is a cool Jazz hopscotch dance poem, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteThankuuuuuuuu! :)
ReplyDeletequite lovely. hope you're well.
ReplyDeletethanks harmonie i am fine alhamdolallah...enjoying my own company on a looong eid holiday...
ReplyDeleteand hope you are recovering fast as a snowdrop shows her head in winter...