Une enfance dans la lune bmoraillon.Boy
I sit on the cold ledge of the day
my feet dangling over the edge
into the thin air still as a stream
my thoughts still lost in a dream
Off to the west diamonds sparkle
light reflecting off the windows
of houses too distant to discern
solar light too fragile to contain
It’s like joy in the eye of a child
unpremeditated unselfconscious
innocence all too soon corrupted
by a sports page & a comic strip
I sit on the silver sliver of a moon
A boy with his fishing rod in hand
his line dangling down into stars
not yet extinguished by the day
Poet's Corner 