This was a poem which presented many choices. Yet, surprising myself, I went a different way than I thought. (One of those out of nowhere experiences.)

#11
Legs’s Eleven.

for the first time in a decade
i am remembering Harry Mulroney

nicknamed Legs because his were short
a fresh faced boy as he remains to me

though when i knew him, of course
i was about that young too

played cricket in the same team
as head-in-the-cloud teenagers

he was the wildly talented captain
whereas, i, was just wild

good friends, only semi-close in the way
boys often must stay, not best mates

yet we talked of renting a place
in the city, when we went there to study

two country kids planning for uni
most around us had no such goal

we’d talk about it for hours, at training
in the car to away games, making the idea safe

yet as he was a few years younger
i went before him & we slipped apart

another precious thing lost
for reasons i still don’t understand

#87. Dammit, one off the other call I really wanted 🙂