a photograph of summer (a sort of sonnet)

A shoeless wanderer roams, blind from strife
over hot, short grass; this boy was you once -
whose world consists of never resting suns
and waves deeper than the meaning of life.

Seashells cascade in a blue-green pale
as, while you laugh, a red balloon does drift
to your sky, which shines light upon this gift
while off to the west a small boat sets sail.

Your light has since burned downwards in the blue.
Years wear down a memory, long lost is
the sound of solace from a sand-bucket.
Your boat in water rests, yet, still you lend
to us a mind unchanged from childhood bliss;
until you drift on, skywards, to the end.