George sat high in the wagon watching the children kicking stones in the dirt alley over yonder. Their play was lively and their voices and laughter was energetic. It filled him with memories of his own youth so many years past. But those memories tugged at a sadness that he was trying to keep locked inside him. He should have known better then to watch the children because it only reminded him that his own son never got to run wild with the other boys; he would never get to play over yonder.
By Shari Marshall – 2020
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