What do you think?
Rate this book


80 pages, Paperback
First published April 7, 2020






I was a child who played in the sand,
a little shovel in my hand;
I pranced and giggled. I was three.
The ship sailed past. I didn’t see.
I wonder, now that time’s gone by,
about that day: the sea, the sky …
the day I frolicked in the foam,
when Honolulu was my home.
I think back to that sunlit day
when I was young, and so were they.
If I had noticed? If I’d known?
Would each of us be less alone?
I’ve traveled many miles since then—
around the world, and back again;
I’ve learned that there will always be
things we miss, that we don’t see
on the horizon. Things beyond.
And yet there is a lasting bond
between us, linking each to each:
Boys on a ship. Child on a beach.

We could not be friends, not then, not yet
Until the cloud dispersed and cleared
We needed time to mend, forget
We could not be friends, not then, not yet
Till years had passed
Until we met
And understood the things we feared
We could not be friends, not then, not yet
Until the clouds dispersed and cleared
Black drops falling
From the cloud that appeared over the distant hill
Blossoming like strange new flowers in spring