The snow was falling on the beach
and so the children
into their hands.
They mixed white sand and whiter frost
into balls of light
and threw them. I watched
a girl’s eye drift naked among the tide.
I watched the evening give way
to the boulevard.
And when the snow moved
inland, I became scared
for them, of how this will seem
in memory, if this was happiness,
and if it were me, what might this
have meant. How unreal
seems a child’s mind, these brief comets
at my feet.
Latest posts by Timothy Daniel Welch (see all)
- The Children - August 5, 2015