PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Lucky


“Lucky”

 

One day at school

hands shot up

across the room,

for show and tell.

 

Lailah went to Disney world.

She had her mouse ear cap on

and pictures glued to a piece

of cardboard held up by an easel.

She pointed to pictures of her smiling face

in front of castles, eating cotton candy, amidst

a slew of characters from the stories Little Man was

familiar with.

 

Little Man was read to at night

by mother when she came home early.

Sometimes he’d pick the book up himself and

trace the lines of words he couldn’t read

yet.

But the pictures, oh, they were fantastic;

his imagination ran rampant, with thoughts of

spending time with those creatures and

taking part in their adventures.

So when Lailah pointed at her photos, his mind lit up

with a fervent flare.

 

The room was full of children who had gone

to such exciting places, and they all flew there.

Little Man mused over the photographs a moment,

and tried to picture himself flying over those places,

catching wind in the feathers of his wings.

Everyone had gone elsewhere for fun, but

he’d been home passing the time with sister and

his older brother. They hadn’t gone anywhere either.

Soon the hands around the room began to collapse

and it was time for Little Man

to take his turn up front. He passed.

 

At home he asked mother

‘Why couldn’t we go?’

‘Why did we choose to stay home?’

Mother replied: ‘we didn’t choose’ and

Gave him a kiss on the temple.

Though the kiss had faded silently,

Mother’s words remained to heat his head.

 

For a while Little Man decided that the lucky ones

were chosen, and they had all the fun.

They took pictures, they made memories,

they met Mickey.

That was all that mattered to Little Man.

And it never struck him to think

that all those things were only made to look easy.

He never thought that fun cost anything,

or that flying was restricted

for the staunch well-documented.

He could only wait patiently for a day when a

decision would be made that would

declare him worthy of the luck

that others possessed.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Submitted to a slam

You Only Write Once Scholarship Slam - CLOSED

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.