The smell of wet dirt
and freshly cut grass
perfumed the air
Mud,
stuck to my cleates
like a mother,
re-united with her child,
after years apart.
I jogged to the
greenish
blackish
car,
and opened
the door
the smooth,
light,
creme caramel,
colored leather seats
invited you to take a seat.
I jumped in
my cleates,
scratched,
scratched the once
powerful,
beutiful,
delightful leather,
now
now,
it had still wet mud
on the dashboard.
Mother approached
laughing,
smiling
not knowing
that her child had been
wounded.
When she saw it
Her firey eyes stared at me,
like a hawk
staring at its prey.
Those firey eyes
had a million emotions.
Wounds
can be healed,
but scars
stay forever...
