Scraps-From my poetry group.

Sawdust gathered on the rusted iron wheel near the wagon. I touched it’s terra-cotta handle reminiscing of the rides down hills trying to stop before we hit the next street. Years passed, many Marigolds planted in my yard, trees grew, and I cut them down never finding the fountain of youth. But I saw an elephant looking sad at the fair. I wanted to save him. That was the year my wisdom tooth pained me. When they pulled it I tried to remember the elephant, his sad eyes, and that my pain wasn’t nearly as bad.

Pain it comes and goes.

We fall and rise.

The agony of that elephant will never leave me. 

Angela K. Crandall ©May 16th, 2019

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