Stephanie Gibson
As a Young Girl As a young girl, I would know it was time to come in from a holler so high pitched— I could hear it from two streets away. Her voice was so loud That it was ripe. Sometimes this sound is as clear to my memory as night and day. While some features, like the soft texture of her little wrinkled hands can slip away from my memory. Then sometimes I can hear your shrill AHHH— Stay away from my Rubber Tree plant!
I wrote this poem as a memory and how some memories are trying to fade.
fall 2020
UIndy
81
