Promptly Poetry Entries (6/20 - 6/21)

The Girl Across the Street

We were two pairs of well-worn sneakers,
kicking up dust and picking up stones,
the tales of our day clearly drawn upon
our faces in trails of dirt and sweat
and the juice of wild blackberries,
eaten unwashed with unwashed hands.
We stood back to back, and
head to head, each of us
trying to be taller than the other,
comparing shoe sizes in
our tomboy competition
that summer that your mother
took you away. I don’t even remember
waving that last time you drove away.
I had watched you leave,
so many times before.
I wish I knew if I waved,
my friend.
Goodbye.


Week 2 Prompt:
A time when you waved to a neighbor