Childhood Memories

 

the storm, somewhere far.

my skin is feeling a slight burn.

no voices around.

just the sky.

big,  purple.

childhood dreams are dancing in the theater above me.

 

take me back to the home of my grandparents.

I need to look at those yellow birds, trapped in the cage above the TV.

I need those old hands full of grace and warmth.

 

...

the cold air above the heavy comforter. black and silent night. through the window: stars with promising stories.

loneliness never

 lonely.

 

...

take me back to the home of my grandparents.

the hair of my Granma, long and still dark. some thin white stripes are writing their own poems through it.

her smile, small and hidden. her eyes big, green, gray and  kind.

and there, also: gentle and patient teachings of my grandfather how to draw those birds, those small God's wonders. I look back at him, with trust and faith. The hug follows, coated with the innocence long lost today.

​

I miss you both so much.

  

...

The storm, still far away.

My skin fights the time.

Silence offers the truce.

I accept, under one condition: Take me back to the home of my childhood memories.