All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
I owe it to my grandma
I owe it to my grandma
I walk graciously out
of my grandma's house.
The air so fresh it makes me
not want to return home.
It actually feels like summer here.
I proceed down the creaky stairs
and onto the grass. The singular blades so velvety,
I can walk with no shoes on. From here I can
see the fuzzy, mountains brooding at me;
those always scare me at night.
I peer out to the fields of surprising wonder,
as I am not allowed past the gate.
The mellow breeze brings the scent of
ripened cherry tomatoes.
I long to rebel and go fourage those delicious rubies,
however, the utter fear of my grandma not letting
me coming back is what keeps me put.
My fascination doesn’t hold back me, though.
I begin to roll down the hill as if I am the tree
my grandma cut down last spring all by herself.
Plummeting down, I make it to the pond. The welcoming
water lilies lie farther out than I expected.
Their delightful beauty lives to see another day, as I am
planning to make a flower crown with them for my grandma.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
This poem is an Ekphrastic. Owen Gromme, Gate, 1927, oil on canvas