(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #4.)

chalk dust
blue on my shoes
where I hopped
on the lines
not between

my daughter
yelling
‘you’re out’

us laughing
ridiculously
over mere
child’s play

what did we gain
by growing up?