Poem to the rhymth of a jump rope

6:02 AM

My entry for Mama Kat's Writers Workshop this week:

1,2,3,4 left father behing but I don't cry. Just three years old and time will fly.
I'll see him plenty, now don't you worry, just gotta wait till I turn twenty.
5,6,7,8 move again, jumping state. Double stitch, double stitch, now turn around and a horse you hitch.
Ride into the wind, then break out in hives, gotta find another thing that lets you jive.

Jump, jump, says my stepdad, the cloud hang over me getting ever sad.
But I try not to show, I try not how show, now no one knows
and of that I'm proud.

Round, and round, turn around, the years go by, turn around.
Skip 1,2,3 more states, hop some more just can't be late
Tightly bonded are me and brother we overcome change through one another.
We play, we talk, we try not to cry for the dad we miss and can't kiss.
But we grow up, adolecence comes, we "grow apart" but just for show.

Make-up, new dresses and drive a car. jump, jump touch the floor, first boyfriend now is out of the door.
Dance, dance don't step on the crack, in 2 more skips I'll be far from my past.
Prom is nothing, I go it alone, the damage is done, won't ever go back home.

Jump to Chicago, jump to Belfast, jump to Spain and back again.
California finds me free, back to Spain in 1,2,3
Between them all when I turn twenty I find that life can be a bit pretty.
I find true love, jump, jump into true love....does this mean now that I've grown up?



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