Page 6

I sit in the window of my mothers flower shop, wondering,

About the boy,

who by my mothers side kept watch as I slept;

About my friends,

who are only but a memory made up;

About the rain which threatens to fall,

but wont.

" Would you please grab some bread from the baker's for me."

I stare blankly at her, my mother.

"It's just up the street here."

I nod and head out of the shop.

There he stands, the boy.

He has paused, unsure of something, then he smiles.

"Picking up bread?"

"Yes" I reply, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."