The Runt by Mark Tulin

Also appears in Virtual Library.

When I was a selfish little runt,

it was all about me.

It didn’t matter who I insulted,

what person I bothered.

Because I denied the fact

that I could make people cry.

I denied that I could do

an innocent person harm.

Now looking back,

those hurtful memories

return to me

like a smack in the face,

a boot in the ass.

It is my turn to feel the pain

from a selfish little runt

whose words burn in time.

©️mft

Poem: Where Did Time Go

A slightly different version published inVirtual Library.

I walk down the street

looking at my reflection

in each car window.

I see a wrinkled face,

a bent-over body

and wonder if that’s

really me.

It was just a few short years ago

I walked on the same block,

looked in similar car windows

and saw a young girl in shorts

with long flowing hair

and a bounce in her gait.