Paint Ball

My nephew wore yellow suns
and red flags of Japan
splattered on his green cover-alls.

He pumped and loaded,
rolled and laughed, pink
tongue stinking out,

nose red, eyes wild
with delightful anticipation.
The war was well under way.

*I’ve never played paintball with my nephews, but it was so delightful to see the look of sheer joy on their faces when they came plodding across the yard, looking like a couple of walking canvases. If you would like to share in his experience first-hand, well, here’s a link for you!
paintball masks

Author: Darlene Franklin-Campbell

I am a poet, novelist and artist living in the Appalachian Foothills. I believe we are great spiritual beings on a journey through this physical realm. We are timeless entities stepped into time. View all posts by Darlene Franklin-Campbell