Search of a Drift Wood
SEARCH OF A DRIFT WOOD
The blue hills rolled down the verdant slopes in rhythmic dance
in the cradle of the humming hamlet where my home was once.
With the slant shadow of the clouds climbing the cerulean sky
my teenage joy soared high with the colorful kite I loved to fly.
The gliding brook of fluid pearls flowed in flamboyant grandeur
girdling our house in an embracing loop of horse-shoe meander.
My rainbow paper boat followed the silent current’s rippling trail,
on it I saw to distant dreamland destination my infant fantasy sail.
The boat sank, the kite flew away when the surging storm came,
in the ruins an uprooted tree turned drift wood I still search them.
September 27, 2018
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