Journal #3

Cantaloupe

I sat in bed with pillow under my head.
I couldn’t believe that we so close to achieve
The goal that combine both of our souls.

It was like Romeo and Juliet when we met.
Sadly like the two, both of our parents argue.
Yet we still meet in places so discreet.

The rich gal with the poor boy pal,
Two different sides that go on same strides.
We want  to be together now to forever.

It was that night when we took flight
With cases in each hand, to settle in farther lands.
But our trip cut short when parents caught up with full retort.

Our elope had been erased when they gave chase.
We are now parted, parents acting like before we ever started.
Making us like strangers when young love become endangered.

I laid down on bed with pillow under my head,
When my mom came in with a smile thin.
She brought in a bowl of cantaloupes sliced cut whole.

The irony of the fruit, of this scenario well suit.
All I could do is mope. I feel like such a dope.

 

 

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One Response to Journal #3

  1. deanna says:

    I feel like your desire to rhyme threatens the naturality of your poetry.
    Although this is a cliched topic, I appreciate your ending to it, with the mother bringing in fruit to try and win her son back. I also like the repeated line, “I laid on bed with pillow under my head”.
    Finally, a bit of trouble with your basic grammar– you should use articles, because it catches the reader’s attention without it.

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