Style No. 83: Tanka

Standard

The air fills with sound,

The arm joins the boys in orange.

Grandmother’s concern

Is for what’s hidden away,

The odd man’s for a thing known.

DSC_0593

A bright-eyed boy smiles,
Bites his lip, pupils glinting
In the day’s warm light,
His cheeks recall mother’s meals,
His brows trace dreams scratched in sand.

 

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