Pat Pat Pat

I watched a video of children laughing while they ran from the cameraman.
He chased them up and down stairs, through a house, down a path.
I could hear their bare feet slapping on stone and cement,
and I remembered my own feet slapping against the ground thirty years ago.
I smiled at their giggles while they ran from the lens.
It was my first real smile that day,
and then I wept.
I did not believe that I would ever hear my own feet slap on the pavement like that again.

I ate an apple and went to bed
to hide from the demon nostalgia.
Life is tiny heartbreaks
broken by tiny feet,
and sometimes only dreaming stops the pat pat pat.

Me at - Freed: How I Lost God and Gained the World

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