Not Long Ago

I would like you... to read this poem, not ‘cos it’s different from the rest of mine, maybe, ‘cos I wrote it, just now--- five minutes ago. Although, I believed ...that I gave my best for this write, yet still, it needs attention, the pleasing sound of your heart, as you caress every word of it. A rhyme, skinned from geranium’s lips...that November whispered me, a song, of two birds I saw, hanging on an oak tree. What’s there below, in silent gaze, peeking at them? Do you know the color of their days? Oh, I still recall, vividly, the color of my yesterday: let me remember you, hmm, I think it was… Ahh no, I’ll just leave that to you, untangling the spell, yes the spell, of my adolescent years, hidden in this poem, of not so long ago!