Step on a crack,
break yo Momma’s back.
Put yo hand on yo hip
and let yo backbone slip.
I remember those summer nights,
racing the streetlights
because any later we’d be in trouble.
Leaving anyone behind meant double.
These were the laws back then.
Waking just to do it again.
Summers at Grandma’s, freedom rang!
So we jumped, played, chanted, and sang.
Ignored tales told at night in the kitchen.
Forgot ancient folklore and superstition.
But could you imagine a world just so,
where things could differ from what we know?
Where instead of doctors, lawyers, or engineers,
there were unicorns, fairies, and talking steers.
What if all oddities somehow rang true?
Would I be guiltless? Would you?
To think as I landed on cracks, ever gladly,
some mother somewhere was screaming, madly!
Halt! These ramifications run deep!
Held accountable for everything we speak?
Stick and stones
may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me.
Least that’s what we want to believe…
Poem submission for differ;halt;imagine at Three Word Wednesday and Mary’s Mixed Bag: Friday the Thirteenth on popular superstitions at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Please visit, enjoy, and comment after linking ❤