morris 111


I watched as they ran along side the evening light.

The pair of them, embraced in a moment that would burn into my memory.

A blur of childhood simplicity, where the air looked and felt like summer.

Slow and humid, and full of laughter – distant laughter that I can hear even now thinking about it.

Where lights and shadows blended in a haze of evening colors, just above their heads.

The children ran without a thought of where they were going.

Overcome with the joy that called them to run until they were breathless.

I remember hoping for that same joy.

Effortless joy that would command my heart and lungs, and will.

I remember being so grateful to them for showing me that it existed in this, its purest form.

And I hoped that they’d never lose it.

But if they did find themselves in doubt of such joy, I’d be able to speak on its behalf.

I would tell them about the time that I witnessed it on their faces.

That I saw it move them across a summer evening.

And that it sprinkled the scene with laughter.


4 thoughts on “Witness

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