Don't play in the road.
Crisp, stern mouth
pushes our feet faster.
Mother always told us
to be cautious.
But we were not cautious.
We were reckless.
Our tiny boots and
hats
bounce fiercely with
the wind.
Running wild, we
focus on our destination.
I can see the dirt road
while making knee-deep
footprints,
our anticipation
melting into laughter.
White memories seep
into my jacket sleeve.
I freeze.
We step,
rather fall,
into a giant landslide.
We have made it.
He says the road is three
miles long.
I never believed him.
I still don't.
He grins.
Ready?! he yells,
as if my age
affects my hearing ability.
Yes, I muffle.
He runs and hurls
onto the red foam sled,
his body moving faster
than the wind.
Now it's my turn.
I grip my blue one,
stepping in place,
ready to jump.
I hear my mother's voice,
Don't you dare!
The road,
cold danger,
makes me do it.
