Betty Smith

This is a poem written by me. The theme is everything turns full circle. We will return to the natural, eventually.

Playground

Concrete Streets,

chain linked Swings,

drones make honey,

for queen bee to eat.

Concrete streets hold

jungle gyms of brass.

little monkeys need

the time to pass.

Conrete Streets,

merry go ‘round,

fun little ride,

until we all fall down.

Aren’t we yet tired?

Lets break for water.

Grass from the past

will grow through the cracks

of concrete streets.