despair made me remember
his moment of sheer terror
freezing cold, as he was
bruised, in panic, at a
moment of loss
wanting his friend, I could
see it
the ball he had carried, his
body crying
wanting to run to it, to be
rebellious
but already lined up,
waiting
waiting, compliant, a good
boy,
to return to the classroom
not wanting to break any
rules
but secretly watching,
wanting
left, discarded, gathered by
the wind
finding a place, resting, silent
in the lee of the storage
shed
a multicolored ball, his old
friend
the ball he had taken
outside
before the day took its turn
his slight body now buffeted
by the wind, the switchbacks
by falling on the granite
dust
navigating the thin wood
the place beyond the fields
where he and the other
played
standing in line, shivering
in the cold
the too-thin, threadbare
t-shirt
not nearly enough, the open
sweatshirt
his body shuddering, waiting
for the bell to ring, but
what of the ball
that lost but not forgotten
the friend far from him,
want to run
breaking the rules to run to
get it
out of the question, absurd
another to retrieve it, like
a basketball
but colors of summer, once
bright,
now faded on the ground
====
Edited September 24, 2013
“The multicolored ball – v5”
Edited September 21, 2013
“The multicolored ball – v4”
April
7, 2013
“The
multicolored ball – v2”
April
6, 2013
“The
multicolored ball”
Deerfield
Community School
April
3, 2013
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 25,720+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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