With One Last Glance
Fifteen years old…I trekked the river-bend, dived
Around balmy ledges, held by a curiosity
Nourished in toddler years,
When Father would tenderly utter of lighting
My adolescence anchored on the salty
Yet fragrant curls of a bay’s fathomless wave
Now imbued within: Viewing the shift of clay,
The marvel of paper boats leaning on rocks--
This soul became fearless calm noble,
Until modernity drove an islet to the ground;
And as I take a long, last gaze at a crumbled site
A part of my innocence rushes out with it...I wail.
The Last Contest, for Silent One
12/1/2018
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