Mackenzie MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   dancing

to songs of old

he taught me

fred astaire.



listening

to orchestral crickets

rustling leaves and

pitter-pattering rain

i revealed

the sounds

of season.



my blind eyes

saw his

sincerity

honesty

confidence

and all in

between.



we whistled

in the dark

the sweet tunes

of summer.



the theater

with its beautiful sound

had a glass rotunda

and a ceiling of stars.



i often laid there

on the white marble bench

in denim shorts

and red t-shirt

where i slept

dreaming

of past nights

i spent with him.



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