As Life Ebbs
I see through the eyes
of my childhood.
I project my memories,
black and
white and
grainy on
whitewashed walls
that meant something
to me
once.
I walk through
these nameless streets,
where so many
beautiful girls
made me swoon,
where jacarandas
and olive
and citrus trees
whose twigs are laden
with twittering sparrows
stand in glorious bloom,
with youthful legs,
brisk and easy.
strutting along.
dancing more
than walking.
And they take me places
that are no longer there
(at least, not in the shape I remember,)
but that I can clearly see still.
I walk past faces that I knew,
but they are few now
and no longer carry
that luster of youth.
I barely recognize them.
They are now strangers.
and it could be
I am a stranger to them.
and to these streets.
and to these walls
closing in on me.
The lilt of home
is lost
as life is
ebbing
haplessly.
