As a child,
Sitting beside a surreal stream.
The Man in White, smiling,
promising to me.
As a man,
The brightness not so intrusive,
A spindly comfortable porch chair
against a tall limestone wall
Still a promise.
The broken memories not so sharp
as they once were,
The joy of them returned.
Please?
Three empty chairs,
beside the one,
and I smile, waiting.
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