1976

I cried today. Long wailing sobs. The kind that only
a mother knows. It started with a photograph from 1976.
The boys were in a discombobulated line with other children.
Bicycles intertwined with arms, legs and feet.
Monkey motions, peace signs reaching up from soft little boy fingers.
Silly faces and a brotherhood that built forts,
told secrets and ran free in a mostly safe environment.
Days that dissolved into lightening bug nights.  An old black and white photograph,
enlarged so that these eyes might see the boys’ faces.
Old eyes and a heart that hurts.
A longing for that lost touch from four little dirty hands

April 2025