It was a bright summer day,
on Chanticleer Drive,
For the sake of the poem,
Let's say I was five,
Upon my bike,
I zoomed about,
Over and over,
I traced the same route,
It never got old,
Well, that’s not quite true,
It was actually rather dull,
But there was nothing else to do,
So round and round I went,
Tracing the cul-de-sac,
I was going nowhere,
Just down the hill and back,
On about my seventh loop,
A commotion had formed,
There was something of great interest,
Of which my co-riders had now swarmed,
What could it be?
What had they found?
Whatever it was,
It could truly astound,
I raced to the scene,
So I could see what they saw,
After I looked,
My jaw dropped in awe,
They had found a genuine hill,
But not just any hill,
This was an ant hill,
That’s why it granted such a magnificent thrill,
While it was truly quite cool,
I wanted to increase the appeal,
In order to accomplish this,
I ran it over with my wheel,
I learned soon thereafter,
That my decision wasn’t great
For my neighbor named Connor,
Was terribly irate,
I stood there and shuttered,
What else could I do?
I shortly after muttered,
“I didn't mean to!”
Well, that was a lie,
I did my intent,
But I could’ve let Connor kill me,
Or live and repent,
But I hadn’t escaped yet,
For Connor was suspicious,
He knew I had lied,
What followed was not so auspicious,
My brother came to my defense
Assuring Connor that what I said was true,
He convinced him by stating,
That I was the most honest person he knew,
Those words cut me,
It cut me so far,
I still have the memory,
I still have the scar.
Afterword by Isaac Shaw
What a hilarious piece. A great mix of ironic humor and genuine internal struggles. Well done, Damian!
Really like this poem! Keep up the great writing :)