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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Fancyburg Park (II)

We went to Fancyburg Park,
Mary, Jackie, Michael and me,
to play with the kids.
There weren’t any,
but three squirrels
ran about,
sun washing the ground,
sky blue as a morning glory,
air the transparency of crystal.

Michael dozed in the sun,
Jackie chased MeMa down the slides.
Trees had not yet changed,
but coolness hinted of the fall.
Michael opened his eyes,
dark light of a brilliant heart.
Jackie said hi to a little girl
who had arrived.
The park was a chrysanthemum
of green.

I heard children laughing.
Michael and I watched each other.
I lifted him up.
Will we remember this,
MeMa’s smile,
Jackie chasing his new friend Rachel,
the squirrels never stopping,
and time,
a flying wind
gliding through our souls?

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