Big old house, lots of room for your family,
(could use some paint), got a large yard, and lights.
Roof don't leak, stairs squeak some, there's two stories:
Busy street divides neighborhoods, blacks from whites.
Across Second Street, Sheila waves me over
for jump rope, a dolly party, chitlins
and greens. I wait, go when the traffic lulls,
squeeze her brown hand, play we'll-always-be-friends.
Atop our brick barbecue, I wave, yell
Red Rover, Red Rover, send Sheila right over,
for hotdogs and tea parties. Her face sours.
I don't, but she knows, she can't come over.
VIRGINIA, 1963 by Victoria Elizabeth Ruwi | Poetry Reed Diffuser
$20.00Price
