A Boy

Our feet are pools of dust

Where the gums lean.

The scent sits on the breeze,

A sun-stirred perfume.

We were here long ago

With a carefree boy.

He kicked the stones,

Aimed at the stars:

He never missed, he said.

He winked at us

As the May cold came in.

Perhaps he is here now.

In February.

Among the shadows.

In the dust.

In the memory.

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