Balancing like windmills
on a tide washed stone
precarious boys are kings,
immortal and unconquered,
on the shoreline of their kingdoms.
But the chasing waves wrap round each other
tangling doubts.
And each one, like a small voice,
sibilant with questions
brings the future.
Trefyn, Pembrokeshire, May 90
For two twelve year old boys, the child of a friend, and his friend.
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