Hom

There I am across the street

In my yellow raincoat, 

the hooded rain hat, 

the rubber boots clanking.

 Scuffle, scuffle. 

She will read to us. 

The Black Stallion. 

I am on a cushion

made by my Dad. 

I am dreaming as

She reads. Isn't that

what listening is?

The boy is at the center

of my mind. All day

and into the night. 

In the middle of the

night I wake up. 

There is no room

for anything beside 

the horse. Everything

is the Black. 

In the morning 

I remember Her voice. 

She is reading. 

I am listening...

I am in love.