In the shade of a broken tree
I found time to pause and rest.
I saw broken branches above my head.
They had fallen in a recent storm.
The organic curves of wood
had fallen onto jagged stone chips.

I was waiting for a friend to come.
A car came down the empty road.
My friend stepped out and smiled at me.

Sometimes we laugh at a memory:
His yard had a maple with a swing.
I was flying as he pushed me higher.
We were free and filled with love.

W. Wayne B.
Jan. 2012