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A Spoonful of Sugar

Sometimes I wear pink and yellow socks

because it reminds me of pink lemonade

on Easter Sunday

when there’s a soft breeze

curling around the swingset I’m running towards

at eight years old.

I’m wearing a pastel dress

because we just came from church,

and my cousin roman is racing me in his tiny suit.

Normally it’s so hot in this desert of a town

you wouldn’t think to wrap small hands around metal chains.

But today is different.

Today no one is going to yell at me for being too loud or too wild.

Today, I’m going to hunt for Easter eggs

in a park far away from my house

and the “bad” part of town

while the sun shines, and my family sets up the barbecue.

Days like today are few and far between.

Days like today are precious beyond measure.

The sky is cloudy, shielding us from the harsh sun,

and my mother won’t tell me

I have to repeatedly apply sunscreen or ill blister like last time.

Days like today will be remembered

not for what was said or what was seen

but for what was felt.

I can smile into the breeze and enjoy everything I am.

Days like today I will remember for the rest of my life,

especially when I need to remember why I should stay.

Days like today are the reason I’m alive.


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