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Photo © 2009 Stephanie Parsley

Crossing

The boy
darted out, froze
on a lane line, arms hard
against his chest. A car stopped at
his shoe.
Trying
on smallness, he
hugged himself, but it did
not fit, there in the road, in rush
hour.
One arm
bore a green cast
from elbow to wrist. Our
eyes connected as he waited,
ran past.
Boy, I
should have told you,
should have rolled down my window, called,
Watch out, son, your life matters to
someone,
to me.
© 2013 Stephanie Parsley
A real boy inspired this poem, and I couldn’t stop with one cinquain about him, maybe because I very nearly ran over him on my way home from work.I think it was Halloween. It was turning cool out, and the boy had on short sleeves. 
Thanks once again to The Miss Rumphius Effect for the poetry stretch. This one, from November (written then but just now revised), was to write a cinquain — with a total of 22 syllables distributed over the five lines: 2 for the first line, then 4, 6, 8, then 2. 
I was glad to re-remember this boy. I hope he’s loved.

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