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On the Schoolyard Fence

It caught me unawares,
its’ fleecy fingers purple
-beyond the schoolyard gate,
I stood, transfixed.

Within the walls, the children heard
of letters building phrases,
Without; the strangled glove spoke eloquence.

Its’ martyred absence destitute,
forgotten by decision,
a childish impulse
-“Why bring gloves indoors?”

This cast off palm, dismembered,
high crime of eager innocents,
its’ presence, testimony
to the rules of selfishness.

My own friends once played in this court,
I've left, beyond their reach,
-my hands, so cold,
before this biting wind.

A final lesson,
learned too late,
a childs’ indifference,
now marks this place off-limits
to the grasp
of our own fate.


[by myself in collaboration with V.]


------
The body is a season,
the mind, a timepiece
and the spirit, a cloud passing.


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by SaintEnvious





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