Anyways.

Your dads in the garden
giving and taking drinks.
He knows what you need
and it ain't what you think.

First of all, today
was anything but mine.
The last thing I could say;
I didn't have the time.
Does it matter anyway?

Your mothers pluckin' weeds
about to make a scene,
reciting everything
that no one needs to hear.
she feels everything.

The earth is made of clay
at least that's what they say.
Where'd they get the time?
Doesn't matter anyway.

Reviews

[Falling Leaf.]

This is really cool. It's kind of...an easygoing poem. Does that make sense? Light but still has substance. This ending has an air of nonchalance to it--I like it. Only grammar things I could find: dads, in first stanza. Should be dad's. Same thing with mothers in the third. mother's. Nevertheless a fantastic piece.

Keep doing what you're doing,
Savannah