Pomelo

I remember a time when I used to make kites and slingshots.

I would fly those kites on windy days, and hunt birds with my slingshots.

I would run shirtless and barefoot under the beating sun.

Somewhere, that boy is still running.

Somewhere, he is still innocent and inundated with the joys of flying kites

and hunting birds with his slingshots.

That boy will never die.

He will never stop loving and living the life he knows.

It is the only life he will ever know.

The sun, running, the hot earth beneath his bare feet, the wind.

He feels no fear, no sorrow, no pain.

He deserves this life.

He is fulfilled.

He is thankful.

He is invincible.

The ground beneath him isn't harsh enough to damage his bare feet.

The sun isn't strong enough to ruin his beautiful complexion,

nor is the wind powerful enough to weather his skin.

He will never stop running.

He will never stop hunting.

He will never stop flying kites.

Reckoning ►

Comments

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Hannah Collins

Fri 7th Dec 2018 12:36

Fantastic writing, beautiful.
At one with nature, the best of the natural world.

Hannah

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Clarke

Fri 7th Dec 2018 11:49

Thanks friends.

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Paul Sayer

Thu 6th Dec 2018 14:50

Loved this poem Clark well crafted.

Po

Big Sal

Thu 6th Dec 2018 14:13

I've shot and killed one bird with a pellet gun in my life - and I've regretted it ever since. Even had to bury the poor thing because I couldn't reconcile what I had done. Birds are the last remaining dinosaurs and something beautiful - but regardless, this piece was nicely done.

First line reels 'em in, and the rest just keeps them wanting more.?

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