Dedicated to my little Brother Anthony

Under grinded flakes of clouds
gathering echoes of children
who sprinkle laughter to ears
he sits
Quietly on hooves of steel
bond by flaps of leather
and Reeboks
Toes tight, tense to
the usual sights and sounds
of rigorous running
An invasion of intoxicating
excitement bellows beckoning
like balloons ready to burst
He awaits stout in
strapped stagnancy to
the leather plated backrest
for a push to join in the joyous
occasion of recess
Twines of his hair
tangle in the subliminal breeze
The hairless girl
cornered with him
weaves her cancered
fingers regrouping
his thick locks
Each takes the gift
of normalcy
to the future
for one day it will
be theirs
Hands gripped they
belong,
if only to each other
Within these tedious seasons
they wait for a cloudless sun
together in the magic of hope