. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Monday, April 18, 2011

Yellow

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The boy in the orange shirt holds tightly to a yellow crescent moon. His eyes are closed, his lips curve. He remembers moons and smiling. He remembers talk of broken moons and full ones rising from the earth. Sometimes he wonders why he could see the moon on bright blue summer afternoons. Sometimes he wonders where the moon hides at night, waiting till he sleeps to show its face. One night he tried to stay awake for it but it never came, or he fell asleep. He’s not sure which.
Sometimes he remembers her. The girl whose name is only mentioned in whispers and wonders if she has left him to go live on the moon. Sometimes he wonders why she didn’t ask him along. Sometimes. Yes, sometimes he remembers.
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2 comments:

Bonhomme Sept Heures said...

Oui, tout au fond d'un plus profond souvenir, on n'oublie jamais ceux et celle qui ont marqués nos Coeurs, nos Âmes, Nos Vies. Il n'a pas oublié celle qui lui a montré sa première Lune. Il n'a pas oublié....

Marjolaine Hébert said...

..hmm..peut-être que non..c'est certain que pour moi, il vivra toujours dans mon esprit. Et quand je regarde la lune le soir, il est toujours là, son doigt croche, qui me dit avec souci: cassé-cassé-cassé! la lune est cassé!!