Round-Up-Roundabout
by Hostess on Jun.20, 2009, under Keyword Poetry, Poetry
Whisk me away to the dance at the barn,
Like that egg yoke you used for the cookies.
And I’ll sit in the passenger seat and spin my yarns,
Like any third-generation cowgirl-turned-city girl should.
We can park by the trees my dad calls cedars
And you can pull out that flashlight until we get inside.
And I can sip my apple cider, and wonder if that girl’s cider
Is sweeter as she sips it on the other side.
