The Writer's Voice

The World's Favourite Literary Website



Elizabeth Maua Taylor

A clod of cool earth
Gets squished between your toes
On this late afternoon.
We sit on the bench,
Being careful of the splinters.

I still smell the sandalwood
In your burnished hair,
And your eyes, a dark shade of coffee
Cannot be still,
Taking in the woods.

The leaves now turn a kaleidoscope of tweeds,
The air now smells of school
And September.

You're going off to college
And I miss you.

Critique this work

Click on the book to leave a comment about this work

All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines

Be sure to have a look at our Discussion Forum today to see what's
happening on The World's Favourite Literary Website.