left, discarded, gathered by
the wind
finding a place, resting, in
the lee of the storage shed
a multicolored ball, an 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
breaking the rules to run to
get it
out of the question, absurd
another to retrieve it, like
a basketball
but colors of summer, faded on
the ground
April 6, 2013
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. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 22,690+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
