Tuesday, March 07, 2017
my arms clutching its coarse trunk
while I searched for a fruit.
I could tell when one was ripe for the picking.
It was where I could see the river flow east,
where I shot bouncing pebbles
as the day retired.
I could tell when a boat
was about to sail north.
Where is the bench I shared
with the girl who gave me my first kiss?
We used to sit together,
spent countless hours
just watching the moon.
I long for her tiny face, her long black hair
that swayed with the wind. Her wet lips
reddened by the lollipop we shared.
That made it a very sweet kiss.
their own business. Nothing to do with me.
No traces of my little house
no girl who waits patiently for me.
The time is ripe for me to move on.
Finally, the boat is ready to set out to sea.