Foolish

Muddy piled leaves on a bed of unspoiled roots

Like dams reject the flimsy light.

Rusty black died fence threatening escapism.

Faceless strangers treading down the street.

A gentle bite on the metal stair banister

and chills possessing my spine nerves.

Foolish

and an open door to ecstasy

and whimsical children.

He would mock me, my brother,

Staring at me from the top of the beloved orchard tree,

Puzzled

Poked by the curiosity of a young growing soul.

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