The First Gun

And still they lingered on her lips. The children. The tale of those who were lost with their fading childhood. Reproduction was an exact name. A re-creation of their childhood. A restoration of selves. A wooden plank on the river bed. Flowing. Empty.

After their mother had kissed them, they had ran outside with with the wooden plank.

Published in: on November 14, 2006 at 1:08 am  Leave a Comment  
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