by Ernest Williamson III, PhD
I do not know why I remembered.
Everything. White sunlight tickling
My hair. Me, the brown little boy. Age 5. Sitting
Happy subdued. in August as if Santa came fortnight.
So strange, the music of the ocean waves.
Me and Andrew atop sand building a castle.
Both of us smaller than bad blood, colored
Reminders, or corridors of askance; treason in the trees. Oblivious.
Now, I do not know why I forget everything else.
The frowns on your faces. The colors of your reminders. Oblivious.
The matters in your lives. The oceans with bleeding
Waves. The two buddies fighting to the death.
again. Oblivious. in a yellow dump truck.
My Mork & Mindy lunchbox. Oblivious.
From age five to eight. Andrew always smiled.
Whether we were building sandcastles or not.
Whether the news gives a damn or not.
Whether or not we
in essence
mattered.
As did the sand.
Sandcastles
Ocean music
White sunlight white.
Smiles unending.
Dump truck. Yes.
The yellow one.
Oblivious.
A yellow one.
About the Author:
Dr. Ernest Williamson III has published creative work in over 600 journals. He has published poetry in over 200 journals including Roanoke Review, Poetry, Life, and Times (UK), Aroostook Review, The Commonline Journal and Pinyon Review. His artwork has appeared in hundreds of journals including New England Review, Penn Review, and Columbia Review. Ernest lives in Tennessee.