Spring Water

I put the sugar in the jug

and wonder if it cares

that the label I have chosen

is so far from the truth.

But that matters not really

since sugar cannot care

that it now resides

in an empty water jug,

but people care

and people have feelings

so obviously people

are different from sugar.

Society does not take note

that there are differences indeed

since they still place labels

that are sure to mislead.

There are so many labels

a person is made to bear,

but on the inside is sweetness

if we’d only look and not stare.

© Autumn Siders 2016


I never knew that was how you felt

and I don’t understand how

since our opportunities were equal

yet we are not the same now.

Whatever you thought was happening

is not at all how it went down

an the victim that you always play

is that little boy who makes you drown.

If only I could see the world

in the tattered way you do

then I might understand the way you are

and why you do the things you do.

© Autumn Siders 2016

Good Girl

I hear the words, “five more minutes,”

and I know that I have ten

since each time they say that

I know they’ve lied again.

So I put on my sad face

and sulk away to bed

pretending to believe them

while the plot forms in my head.

Well, on my way to slumber

I’ll claim that I got lost

and rip that carpet up

no matter what the cost.

Counting down the minutes

I hear the doorknob click

and think, they didn’t lie!

or perhaps this is a trick.

So I stop my deviant behavior

and bring back those sad, sad eyes

knowing that a treat will come

because I’ve got my good girl disguise.

© Autumn and Emilita Siders 2016


The air is crisp

and the night is still;

we wait in silence

and study drill.

The field is empty

waiting for us to fill

the crisp air with music

and our hearts with thrill.

We find our spots

and scatter on the field

the first notes come to life

and to the drums we yield.

Our instruments, our weapons

which we so proudly wield

unstoppable we are together

with a wall of sound as our shield.

A soft patter falls on our heads,

mother nature’s will.

This heavy fog cannot

our good nature kill.

As the final note rings out

we retreat with expert skill

and leave the air ever crisp

and the night forever still.

© Autumn Siders 2009