When I brought my friend splashing through

a summer storm's memoirs,



In an hour nearly christened by

twilight's pleasant breath,



We held hands like monkeys,

black on tan ...



Until the contrast swirled into dripping marbles,

of chocolate,

milk

and

dark,



While legs stirred nature's java in a dance

through Earth parfait,

sweet mud,



Which made us tranquil warriors,

happily clad tribesman

on a steaming, oozing path ...



As young woes were freed,

words went invisible

like crescents,

shaped from grins and sparkle coated -



"Here's a good one!"



Together, we were children after rain.