Lights made pictures,
Shadow movies on the
Carpet, where fleet skirts
Fled to lead the
Feed and long arms
Strained to make the
Catch -- impressed
Memories that pull me
Back to that arch.
The grey skies of
Early afternoons
Spent ignoring the
Screams of scores,
Embroiled in the pursuit
Of comraderies -- they
Fall into my eyes
Like sugar spun
Dreams of youth,
Daring the heart
To quicken for when
The words spoken
Lasted only moments.
Frames run
Every while or so,
Now that the
Movie's over.

rjw, 8/26/96

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