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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1283325

An old rendezvous point brings back memories.

Wow.
The rock.
How to explain?
The base,
the tower,
the rendezvous point.
Every day
same time
at the rock.
We'd try to sit on it
and hurt ourselves in the process
especially me.
It was pointing up like a triangular prism, after all.
We'd watch the soccer games
and the football games
and the ball flying across the street
or into the tree.
I miss that rock.
© Copyright 2007 Pywackett Barche (ejbspeedemon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1283325-The-Rock