Emily danced

Emily danced on the limestone
wall.


'Twas '71.  Her dress long soft
and flowered,
her eyes nowhere but
on him.
Afternoon Lexington
sun.
Soft bricks on old.


Walls.


A cynic, he.
Current deep of kindness
but for years smothered
by sarcasm
and fear.


Later, he said:
You'll have to be strong.


Later, later, he said:
Why can't you be fun like her,
as the boy lay leaving.


Emily danced.
Away.