Grown-Up — a quartet of haikus

A daubed memory:
a singular tin soldier
stands guard in the rain.

A stained memory:
battles wage with wooden swords
in an oak’s shadow.

A scrubbed memory:
a voice sings through lightning bugs,
it’s time for dinner!

A lost memory:
weapons resign in the grass;
the foe dissipates.

© 2016 Stellular Scribe

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