May

The blue sky was the same color as the eyes of a child that I used to teach, 
who learned things slow and steady.
Maybe I got teary at the thought of not going back to a place I had grown to love,
or maybe the food I got was too spicy, 
or maybe I was having allergies.

But the music was loud, so I didn't have to speculate. 

5/31/2018

PoetryRiley Welch