A small boy and a smaller dog
sitting on a curb, in the late afternoon.
A Rockwell painting; alive.
An image to conjure thoughts of our glorious age-
stirring pride
and warming hearts.
But the dog is tired and thin
and the boy's smudged face echos the pups hunger.
I suppose they're waiting for a parent
or a sibling who's running late,
but more likely
he and the dog will sit,
their shadows will draw longer
and the sun will fade to orange, then pink.
1 comment:
i love how your work tends to ebb and flow.
i've come to expect that underlying (and at times, overt) melancholy presence in your writing, but then there's this. it's still dark, but it's different. i really like that about it.
Post a Comment