Puddles of water and a foot
tapping in nonchalance with

the school bell ringing in
time. French words surround

me, though I’m unawares;
a half-glance, a stare and

I’m sold. I don’t care what they
called it in juvenile rhymes

where we danced as the
stars were unfurling. We

dined ‘neath fireworks, a
fat pie and some wine, and

the cutlery sang into the new
silence. Yesterday’s moments

are foundations of stone that
merge under a tower of dove-

tailed wonder.


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