429B

Three numbers and a letter hang from an old wooden post,
the same I used to hang from years ago.
They ask me what I remember.
I remember everything.

Remember the times we’d rest on the tops of the grass,
staring up as the leaves fell down around us?
Oh, how we’d throw those brown dead spiky balls
we’d pick up and throw as far as we could.

Recall how we’d jump from the porch and onto the lawn,
running so Tom wouldn’t catch us. We had it all.
Back and forth in the rocking chair, backpack on the side.
Remember the TV, waiting for you to come.

Three numbers and a letter hang from an old wooden post,
the same I used to hang from years ago.
They ask me what I remember.
I remember everything.