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!
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