Teen Poetry Collections

My City

by a young woman, age 12

It would be in Africa where the children are.
Our city would be made of ice cream
That they could eat until they got bigger.
And when the ice cream melts, it would turn
Into lakes of milk, and we’d rebuild our city
With sugar cones. Inside they have couches and cribs
For babies. Kids would play all day – chicken
And swing and zip line. There would be lions
and tigers and cheetahs. Oh my! Their mothers will have died,
so they ran away. We might scream at first but would see
they’re harmless and just need a mamma. 

When they grow older, we’ll have to give them away
To the mountains, and we’ll never forget them.