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.
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,
Poked by the curiosity of a young growing soul.