The Child

The Child

In the soft light of the morning, I wander aimlessly around town. I hear my own footsteps, lightly crushing the fallen leaves, but I feel no fear… I smell the storm coming from South, the clean energizing scent, and begin to hurry, just hurry!

Pain racks my chest after a while, but even so, I feel free and alive!

I look down and see my smile in a pool of water: It is the child I used to be, reflected by a living mirror! He never left, he only slept while I studied and worked, waiting for play to gently knock at the door.

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About Mauro Metallo

A Writer and Photographer equally at home in Italy and in Canada.

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