The brown-faced boy in the garden is shooting down cherry-blossoms; like tiny perfections of marble they fall to the ground and shatter.
The bare-foot boy in the garden has walked here on a path of splinters, the bones and homes of his parents; a splinter has lodged in his heart.
The bare-faced boy in the garden is too young to remember before when olive and almond trees flowered and then bore fruit.
Kathleen McPhilemy Kathleen McPhilemy teaches English in Oxford FE College.