Nina Brav

Writer, Blogger, Entrepreneur

Play Pretend

The things about him

Young, British

Voice like butter

Humorous, crude

I liked his beard

Brown with specks of red

How he looked at me


Touched my curls.

Us, two kids

On the playground

Sitting atop

The climbing dome

Hand on cheek

Slow lean, soft kiss

Smells of rum

Tastes reckless.

I Pull away

Feeling wild

Belly warm

Pants still wet

From our dip in Frog Pond

Head still reeling

From our run

Through the park.

It was a Fall evening

Pretended summer,


Pretended lover.