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