The Strut

I met you for the first time in the parking lot off Main St.

You were there every day,

Or perhaps it was someone who looked like you.

I hated the sight of you.

You see, back then I was a mere lad.

Just a young boy ready for the world.

But then you showed up.

 

You strutted about the parking lot,

Guarding the gates of daycare.

I was a target for your wrath.

You glared at me with those beady eyes,

That crooked neck.

Snatched at my sandwiches,

And launched at my chips.

You terrified me.

 

Every day was a struggle.

You were my constant fear.

Dread set days filled my daycare calendar,

And you were the source for each one.

“Be a man!” my father would say.

“Don’t be afraid.” my mother would say.

But how could I not?

I think you enjoyed it.

I get a laugh from my friends.

A shameful look from my teachers.

 

Eventually, there comes a time when you’ve had enough.

And I had enough of your strutting.

The day rolls round and there you are,

Waiting in the parking lot off Main St.

 

You strut closer to me,

But I stand my ground.

No feared walk backs today!

I lunge forward with fury and you fly away.

The sky swallows your fading flight,

And takes my fear away with it.

This poem is about: 
Me

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