The boy who threw stones

lived down the road in a house

with no gate,

in a place of ill fate,

echoing cries that

no one wished to

hear in those nostalgic days of 

blind eyes and deaf ears.

 

The boy threw stones heavy

and we threw them back 

in these childhood games with 

no winners, just boys who tossed for 

fun and then just ran from the fall of

rocks and words that make their mark

wth tears, and blood and bruises

that we all must hide.

 

The boy who threw stones

wandered far from his house

with rocks in his pocket and

holes in his drubbing heart, 

searching for something 

that cannot be found; and his father

drunk by the missing gate does

not notice how late is his return to the 

house down the road strewn with stones.

 

13/10/2018