The lines of the tree's palm shimmered in the light
And in its shadow lay the sandy ground on which a home sat
Four, five doors graced the rectangular strip of weathered concrete
A palm-made mat, a table and a chair
And a boy dancing alone in the morning air
Flinging his legs in and out, back and forth
To a beat not heard
And a smile adorned his face
In the midst of little, the boy danced
And my eyes filled.