tree stumps

by mistersoto

frosted morning memories
poking out from schooled days
provision for play
tree stumps
lined for jumping
from one to another
their ringed surfaces
the proof of years
glittering under layered ice
still sparkles into my vision
amongst the fog
me and another playing
feet sliding
interrupted by the bell
calling us back
and the sound of his fall
alone with him
and his sobs
exhaled into that cold morning
and into this
now sitting with another’s tears