Untitled
by Army Vue

The neighborhood where I live
My neighborhood John likes to give
The butterflies grew, and I grew
The birds chirped as my mom grew herbs

The sun says his goodbye in front of Acacia Street
In those 16 degree Fahrenheit cold nights treats
Where I hear cars screech

The sun starts to peek and peer over my house
I rise without a doubt
with the smell of rice and qaij  and
with the sounds of my short silly sister’s laugh
I again wake up without being told
but forced to shovel the snow

The swift movements of my eyes
I spot that yellow pine
But in front of it
is the neighborhood where I live