Three cherita
don’t be mad!
a tentative smile
a shy glance
a tiny golden weed-flower
you offer
between finger and thumb
I was just a kid
I knew a lot less
than I thought I did
about life, and I spurned
love that did not suit me
to my later regret
in the deep of the night
I hear a cat
playing in the hall —
pouncing, pouncing,
and then bouncing down the stairs
a plastic ball
Published in Atlas Poetica (Issue 27), 3/29/17.
Republished in Miriam’s Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond (https://miriamswell.wordpress.com/2017/04/05/poetry-month-5-cherita-by-bill-waters/) for National Poetry Month, 4/5/17
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