Telephone

I’m gonna spill: the first birthday party I ever

went to, I opened her bedroom door even though 

she said not to! Her room was a mess, but I remember, 

right on time, after all the fun, all the gifts, my mom picked me up 

before anyone could know. Her dad had dressed up as a butler, 

gave us tea in the good china, and used tongs 

to place a few ice cubes in the teacup, to cool it down.

(This is my snippet from a group poem titled "Telephone" done with my slam group!)