Sitting in the blue
Standing to the side
Arms crossed in front of me
Open inside
My own little field
Yielding what it wants me to
The space could house an orphanage
Or two
The children that you never knew
The children who you keep from view
That live despite an uncaring world
Hair carelessly twirled
And pulled
The loose threads
Of an American sweater
Fraying for worse
Never for better
A Life in Poems 