About The Little Boy - Poem by Douglas Scotney
It was sad to see the fun
in the photo from before the move,
before the water swooshed
around what wouldn't let it through,
and whooshed through what would;
before it pooled where it could
and was pored over
and poked and stirred
till it was dun;
and overflowed and dried.
It was sad to see the fun.
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