06-14-2017, 03:40 AM
SOUVENIRS
Beyond my flat's double glazed glass,
I see a hazy midday scene:
Flocks of tourists napping in grass,
The slow and subtle spread of shade,
Tall men with their sub-legal trade,
And on trees the emerging green.
I look with greater focus now,
Upon this fading midday scene,
As I begin to notice how
The spring cement's obscurity
Heightens the plumb logs purity,
Showing a forest that had been.
When I am archaic yet wise,
I will still see this midday scene,
But never again through live eyes;
Never at all with the power
To sweeten a youth gone sour.
Too much to take in at eighteen.
Beyond my flat's double glazed glass,
I see a hazy midday scene:
Flocks of tourists napping in grass,
The slow and subtle spread of shade,
Tall men with their sub-legal trade,
And on trees the emerging green.
I look with greater focus now,
Upon this fading midday scene,
As I begin to notice how
The spring cement's obscurity
Heightens the plumb logs purity,
Showing a forest that had been.
When I am archaic yet wise,
I will still see this midday scene,
But never again through live eyes;
Never at all with the power
To sweeten a youth gone sour.
Too much to take in at eighteen.