Kristine Keverian

Geckos

The hot sun beat down on the sand bricks,
Which were stacked on top of one another,
Looking like a mini Egyptian pyramid.
This was the home for families and their mothers.
 

The families would climb on all fours,
Up, down, inside, and outside their home.
The babies were about the size of my finger,
And never without their mother would they roam.
 

The scaly skin of these creatures
Sheds as they walk.
It slowly falls to the ground
And the beige color camouflages into a rock.
 

I walk near these animals,
Ready to pet them.
But as soon as I get close enough,
I read a sign, “Do not pet the Geckos.”





[BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS, CLASS OF 2008 EDITION]

Copyright 2002-2006 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2006 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.