Wet clothes hang on a line suspended on two poles
On windy days wave like captive souls
A passerby pauses as if trying to recall a forgotten task
A boy walking the opposite way
Tries to understand between fascination and true insight
He remembers he should get home before Angelus
Clouds darkening hurriedly in the horizon.
With one big breath, the wind
swept away all the leaves of autumn
The gnarled roots, visible with red ants crawling.
We were running, chasing each other
after one of us almost drowned in the river
We were testing each other
forgetting heard parental warning:
currents can be swift,
depth can be hard to judge
We thought we are bold
and know more than our age
We were eyeing on toying with the red ants.
That was the day
when “everything smells of hyacinth”
innocence started to fade
We started to learn calligraphy.
The leaves of the palm tree are wet
A shallow puddle on the parking lot
We laughed and jumped in the puddles
We were young and wild
God gave us the time to be a child
Received the fruits of youth
Now grown we yearn
The return to childlikeness
The frolic, innocence, creative mind.
edgarone2
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