IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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ROGER AND ME

Anne Le Dressay

In the old days when we were kids and summer evenings gathered us all together to play hide-and seek until it was too dark to see, we used to hide together, Roger and me, in the high sweet grass along the ditch or under the bushes at the edge of the woods, his arm warm against mine, hearts beating madly against the earth as we watched for that chance to run home free, Roger and me. It seems strange to think of childhood, to look back across the years and recognize that child, myself-- like looking back across a border to a land I can never touch again and did not recognize when I was there. And Roger, he's gone. He left me behind before he left his childhood, and I sometimes wonder where he is, who he has become, whether life has treated him better than his childhood did, who joined us bruised but laughing; he was always laughing, does he still laugh? I remember the sweet dry grass, and earth-smell strong in my nostrils as we huddled against it, waiting. I remember the darkening evening alive with our games, the shouting and running and laughing, and Roger's arm warm against mine in those sweet gone evenings when we used to hide together, Roger and me, waiting for the chance to run home free.

 
 
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