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