The Cover Of My Youth

The cover of my youth fades,
turning into a blank canvas,
a nothingness that began
with shades and hues of red,
yellow or blue, and some
intersected lines and shapes.
But every season when the trees
change its colors, and every
hour has a motion of good and
better, the cover of my youth
unhurriedly coming back. I’m
breathing the same air. I’m
walking passed the fields of
old barns and rice mills.

 

2018

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