Like an alley
The street hides between
Trees of brown rattling leaves
In the daring depths of dark.
The swirling wind above
Wrestles itself:
Spinning its airy way
Down the vacant road.
Aged rain water
Leaves its signature in mirror-like puddles
On the unpure pavement
And in the mind I call mine.
I fake possession of solitary sight
Enough to spot them
In light’s absence.
I playfully splash one:
Shattering its glassy stillness
To beg Childhood’s charming return to me.