Il mio giardino
March 20 2014
Shek O Memory
shek o memory
faintly I hear your voice
vaguely I see your colors: blue when you are serene, red when you warn us of the danger, green when you say, what a beautiful day,
difficult not to dream, when all else fails:
the traces of the path we treaded on the sand and not on the sand
the birds that sang Chinese songs among the strange looking tree with leaves as big as our little faces
which I found its double, after all these years, in Santa Marinella, in Italy
and of course
the unforgettable stone chairs
Oval or round in their forms
as if to say
we are all unique
and we were
under your shade
including Dolly the yellow dog
who understood Gardener's dialect
better than us
and therefore
came to that incredible appointment
at the corner of Headland Road
at the said hour
at the said minute
that beautiful morning
when we all laughed heartily
to the utmost