Jackie was five when she fell off the swings -
A stitch in her lip and two by her eye.
Devin, at seven, tore a butterfly's wings
And gave them to Jackie beneath a gold sky.

Apple trees rained on their parents' apartments
In their sliver-width town near the still-water lakes.
Devin's dad drove with booze stuck in his glove compartment.
He was eight when his dad didn't slam on the brakes.

Jackie drew pictures of rainbows on fire,
And she left them in Devin's hospital room.
She was nine by the time that the doctors took pliers
And lifted the metal pins out rather soon.

So for two years she'd sit in the surgery center
As they constantly reshaped the plates in his arm.
She was twelve by the time that he got to reenter
School for a year then he moved to a farm.

Jackie was fifteen when she got hit by her father,
Devin, seventeen, when he stopped writing poems.
Devin sent her a letter with sixty-five dollars,
And a note that he wrote that said, "Let's start a home."

And by eighteen he hated his lover most mornings.
She was sixteen, herself - couldn't even by smokes.
And they hated the city and its constant storming.
He would pass out near the TV while she wrote her folks.

Jackie left him at nineteen with him climbing walls,
Devin couldn't stay sober or keep up a job.
And the sky was still gold when it got to be fall,
And sometimes Jackie called him and only could sob.

Twenty-one apples trees got uprooted that next year.
The still-water kept stagnant to no one's surprise.
And the two of them learned to live tasting the fear
Of endless, steel stitches and sweet butterflies.

Hide the child in the heart, that's what I feel.

A little ditty.
I like it PP, very touching.

tale of life.....like the write....teasing.

Sing songing in a sad sort of way...made me a little melancholy. Great job!!!