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Little Boy

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Dec. 7th, 2013 | 01:04 pm

The memories undig themselves
Uncurl themselves
In this small part of a large town
Like earthworms
Brought by sudden rains
Emerging, pink and raw in the mud
Leaving spring trails...

And oracles
That would take me down
To where feet resound
By the pool and the auction house
Galleons cast on painted seas -
Oh, like Ulysses
How I longed for that sadness to pass...
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Little boy
If I could pin
Your butterfly wings
To the page of our past
I would give,
Give anything
To catch you spindle-legs
Home from the park

Hold my breath
Fingers and thumbs
Count to a thousand and ten
Till you come home again
But the bunting is down
And just one candle burns instead…

When you were young
Our mother held
You up to see
A palace that was burning
Oh golden haze
And timbers blazing
Wheels that raced
Up the hillside all that morning


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If only they
Had caught the spark
The fatal mark
That seemed to give no warning
If only I
Had seen the sign
Oh darling I -
I could have stopped the falling
The falling
The falling...?


Little boy
If I could pin
Your butterfly wings
To the page of our past
I would give,
Give anything
To catch you spindle-legs
Home from the park

Hold my breath
Fingers and thumbs
Count to a thousand and ten
Till you come home again
But the bunting is down
And just one candle burns instead

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