June. There he stands,
his bare feet slightly emerged in the gravel driveway,
platinum blonde hair messy and pouring over his forehead.
His eyes straight at the camera, his smile crooked.
Freckles scattered over his cheeks,
an over-sized tshirt hanging nearly to his knees,
which are covered with scabs.
His skin is covered in the dirt of the earth.
He seems to exude happiness,
even in the form of a picture. His hands,
they are empty, but look like hands
meant to be full. I stare at this picture now,
and I wonder, where did this boy go?
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