Holden

Catcher in the Rye Poem

I’m up on the hill
Next to the crazy cannon,
Looking below
At the field
At the people
Yelling and screaming
Having a good time
Its December
And all,
And its freezing cold
On top of that stupid hill
I have no gloves
They were stolen by crooks
And I stand there
With my reversible
Thinking of what happened
Waiting for a goodbye
Waiting and waiting
For what will never come.