I’m from the old neighborhood The sweet childhood memories From after school games And childish shenanigans
Remembering dim rooms hushed conversation whispering those compliments almost embarrassed trying to communicate the reverence the pure weight of all this feeling wading so deep in love
And I will wake from frail calls, lonely, enkindled by the breeze.
I will wake in silent hope that glares its rays upon a sere trunk,
As gently a shadow passed through that made me say of this Podunk,
“Alone, brighter than the starlit partings, tides you a dream
as I fall deeper into the silent
moon and I whisper
into a darkened room before sleep
‘I give my words beyond the nile and
‘I give my words by the river
all into a darkened night to keep…’
I kneel towards thin estuaries and darken the shawl with pearls
The northern river kneels, beating pearls,
As the shawl darkens in the ghoul of silence in the wind.
As when the shores collapsed,
Through the depth in the given shores of vague death,
I’d see it go beyond the moons that tided red,
With their rims of eminence through the plated stars
And that sobering wind that drew to the shallow, strange waters
And be still. We were younger.
And the children do play,
And wishes are that; at once where we knew
None of that, none of that
And nothing else, too.