• At times my many memories come washing over me,
    Like the many waves at sea, cliché as that may be.
    Of rainy walks and in them talks of the many things he knows.
    Creeping up the waves of time are lapping at my toes.
    I see a hill of concrete and a tree of pears,
    And a crater full of brambles on which my clothing tears.
    I see wrestling duels and races which easily he wins.
    Now the steady tide of time is creeping up my shins.
    I hear the sound of asphalt crunch beneath my feet,
    My cheeks and shoulders burnt and read beneath the summer heat.
    I hear within his laughter the smile on his lips.
    Cold waters of the times long past have risen past my hips.
    It’s hard like this to go on but regardless I can see
    That long ago there was a time that he did not take care of me.
    There was a time that I watched him because I was the older,
    The frigid waters calm me now, they’ve grown now past my shoulders.
    Walking through the woods was fun, and pushing the lawnmower.
    I told him once that growing pains were his bones flipping over.
    When we were little secretly I’d tuck him into bed.
    I feel content to let my memories crash and roll above my head.