A farewell to your arms It was a sunny autumn day the sunlight soft as babys first blonde hair brushed

against the right cheek. An autumnal day of slanted light, like that last promise wed meet that will never be met life intrudes and roosts, curled toes and ruffled feathers, like pigeons in the shadows of the truly intended words. In the distance I heard the calls of men, the umpires' whistles and the distant thwump of a leather ball being kicked. My hand felt then, the skin that shivered beneath the flannelette shirt and I wondered what distant events might kick this leather again.