I saw him from my window
playing in the silty river sand
tossing tiny stones into the water.
He laughed making faces at the wind
teasing the cold rain with claps
of his own homemade thunder.
I thought of joining him then
because I was alone…
and I needed what he had.
I watched him from my back steps
as he traced words with a stick
in the remains of yesterday’s flood.
His back bent with sorrow
his eyes burned red from a deep
loss I remembered as my own.
Gently I reached out to him then
because he was alone…
and he needed what I had.
Day 17 of National Poetry Month – a Triversen Poem
Words and Image by Cicely Robin Laing © 2017