A Memory
I'll never forget the boy
who slept here last night.
He could be the son of a tile-maker the way clay yields to his touch, or the scion of a mole, the way he burrows and thrusts, or perhaps the stripling of a seaman, the way the oar answers his pulse. His first experience, he avows, a claim that raises certain doubts.
I've had my share
before and I assume I'll have some more, but the memory of that boy last night is a pleasure I shall always store.
who slept here last night.
He could be the son of a tile-maker the way clay yields to his touch, or the scion of a mole, the way he burrows and thrusts, or perhaps the stripling of a seaman, the way the oar answers his pulse. His first experience, he avows, a claim that raises certain doubts.
I've had my share
before and I assume I'll have some more, but the memory of that boy last night is a pleasure I shall always store.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.