To the people underneath
All the stars are far away
To the people underfoot
All the answers twist and change
When the sky is past the limit
Of a questing, reaching hand
And the lights that can be seen
Are just the glints among the sand
Can you still reach for a ladder rung
When dirt is in your mouth
Why is it hard to understand
We first must pull it out
To the people up above
The rungs are made of those below
To the people living free
The sun shines everywhere you go
And they are so hard to find
And they aren’t so hard to find
To the people underneath
It’s not enough to just be kind.
About the Creator
Corwynna
I'm a 28 year old writer and biologist with a million hobbies and enough passion for all of them!
Explore my music, stories, and homebrew on my site:
https://sites.google.com/view/corwynnascorner/home
One Minute to Noon
“OK, guys!” I screech over the macaw-like chatter in my sophomore English class. My students are sharing mementos they accumulated during summer vacation. The assignment is to interview each other and write an expository essay about another student’s treasure: Misty’s coquina shells and sand dollars from Florida, Ruth’s two Navajo pottery mugs from New Mexico, Roxy’s perfume from Paris, Kevin’s chocolate from Hershey Pennsylvania, a picador’s sword from a bullfight in San Fermin Spain, where one of my favorite students, Manny Pérez, ran with the bulls at festival.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler6 days ago in Fiction
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