A memory

A Memory

A man and a boy, his son, heading down the steep hill

Towards the harbour at its foot.

The boy, eight or nine maybe, perhaps less

Carries an old ball, burst and flat.

All the same, he likes the ball, no reason why,

He just does.

The man, the father says to the boy, his son,

‘See how far you can kick the ball, put it down

See if you can hit the road down there’.

The boy, his son, did as he was asked and the ball

Burst and flat flew out and down.

Down into the scrub on the steep hillside below

No way to recover it now.

He liked the ball, no reason why, he just did

But now it is gone.

The boy says nothing and with the man, his father

He walks on down to the harbour.

He learned a lesson then and along with that

He lost a little bit of trust.