Yelena

17

"Contemplating Youth"

In a pale blue evening
The dust of the golden sun is lost
Lost like the youth of
My cavernous palms.

How I wish to tell you what I know
But my dying mind is dying so.
Moment by moment, I watch you work.
You exalt, somehow, in an earthly way….

Wise old trees, blankets for the languor in which you hide,
Will soon become the past season’s leaves.

They are clever.
They are light.

I think about infinite space while you sleep,
How fleeting appulses gently turn the tides
That are still crashing behind my ears.

Remind me again, where do you go at night when you sleep?
Who does your vagrant mind follow beneath the sheets?
The curtains are calling,
Where are their voices?
Where is their pallor?
I sit here, waiting for your return…

In a pale blue evening
When the dust of the golden sun is lost
Lost like the youth of
My cavernous palms.