Dribble Memories

A distant rhythm, a heartbeat on concrete,

a basketball dribbling, light on its feet.

Echoes of laughter from kids in the sun,

replaying summer days when the world felt like fun.

Bouncing balls and shouts, the streets come alive,

I stop in my tracks, my childhood revives.

Faded afternoon skies stretch wide overhead,

the taste of sweet freedom, like honey and bread.

Footsteps resume, but the sound lingers on,

like a familiar song played until it is gone.

And with every bounce, memories wake,

a distant echo, a smile I won’t fake.