The Seventh District

My eyes caught a white airplane, glowing bright, Like a bullet left from a missile's flight. The Seventh District, The same as before, as if I took flight. The eternal flame burns as it did before, Reaching out its arms, calling once more. But the two white swans on the sea are gone, Once caressed by hands so gentle and warm. I recognized Uncle Nick, no mistake, But he doesn’t see me, no glance to take. Awakened, my longing for youthful days, Pierces my heart with its aching gaze. My brother's white house still stands in sight, The stairs, though, no longer feel quite right. Only the blue sea knows me, still the same, Its embrace I swam, and played endless game.