Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Robert K. Johnson

I see two girls—nine or ten—
sitting just inches apart
on colorless steps that climb

to the porch’s sagging planks.
Their dark brown hair, however
carefully combed this morning,
now hangs in scattered strands

that brush against their shoulders.
The dusk has paled their cheeks
and turned their wrinkled t-shirts

shadow-dark. And their talk is so rapid
only they understand what they say
or what sparks their bursts of laughter,
while sadness warms my face.

Copyright © 2013 by Robert K. Johnson.