Note: In "Madison Street", I have often taken more than one memory or experience and combined them into one sonnet. I often change the gender of the persons, and never use real names (except for an upcoming poem "Nanny Brown"). This is a poem of wonder, of innocence, and, sadly, of loss.
Sputnik
October sundown, nineteen fifty-seven.
Frank De Luca stands outdoors because
of something curious orbiting above.
Just five, he still believes in saints and heaven,
the Easter Bunny, Batman, Santa Claus,
the Golden Rule, God’s everlasting love.
His dad points to the Soviet satellite
whose certain, silent, drifting, line of flight
convinces them the moon and maybe Mars
could someday be a new frontier for man.
But Frank will soon discard all avatars
except for one. Bereaved, the boy will scan
the endless arc for signs of shooting stars,
and in his dreams soar! soar! like Peter Pan.
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