I remember you poem

This was another journal entree I ended up writing

I saw what it was like to be behind the wheel in my mother's orange red honda. (More of a box car than anything.) I’ve seen the way she looks at me, while i'm driving down to the flats and back to the band doors over and over again. I’ve seen squirrels dart before the car and hearing the “gasps” when I was stopping before I have hit them. I’ve heard my father yell at me to slow down or speed up, because the speed limit was different in the area.

I heard my mother say slow down some more, when you come to the speed bumps along the way. I’ve heard my sister yell and scream in the back like we were going to die, but my mother shuts her up so i’m able to concentrate on my driving behind the school.

I smelled the wind as I was driving along at a slow and steady pace. Thus smelling the freshly cut grass the loud roaring riding mower created by zooming along.

I could taste the air filled with gasoline as we stopped, and begun switching places with my mother being done driving for one day.

It felt amazing being able to drive on my own for a while as my mother watched me park in the parking space in the school lot. Then picturing when i'll soon be able to drive alone on the road for the first time.

Reviews

[Briana]

This is a very honest, visual piece. This is the sort of imagery I was talking about before. You've got a talent here that you should never stop honing. Keep it up!