Little Johnny Windstorm

“Look at me!”, you shout in your boisterous voice,
as you rip the front door out of my hand,
sending me down the steps in a drunken stumble.

Broad shouldered,
you meet my forward advance
like a defensive lineman,
making me fight for every step
down the concrete path;
daring me to look you in the face.

You dance around me like a schoolyard bully;
tugging at my clothes, touseling my hair,
all the while laughing at my attempts
to evade your mockery.
Refuge is finally reached
behind strong glass doors.

I watch from my haven of safety,
as you run off down the street;
kicking leaves into the air;
swinging from tree branches;
howling in childish delight.

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Published in: on October 28, 2010 at 11:51 am  Comments (4)  
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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. This is a delightful read. I can feel the wind, and nearly developed a sympathetic lean on the first read-through, can hear the pulsing laughter and see the leaves and detritus skipping along with it.

    Lovely piece.

    Like

    • Thank you. It was a very fun write.

      Like

  2. Saw your post on “Ruminate” regarding Poetry and Pain. Just a short visit this time, love this tactile piece on Johnny Windstorm. Look forward to reading more. Thanks.

    Like

    • Thanks for stopping by Debbie.

      Like


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