Wednesday, November 30, 2022

the long walk home

we never ate
the fish we caught.
why would we.
we were children standing
at the side
of the river.
with boxes of worms,
our poles,
our tackle
boxes
full of hooks and weights.
our feet would be wet
as we stood
too close to the water.
we'd be tired
and thirsty.
miles away from home.
but we fished
from sunup until
sundown,
making it to the dinner
table
where our mother,
busy with smaller
children
never asked our whereabouts,
that was forever
unknown.

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