Perhaps I Left Myself
I don’t know what keeps me coming back to this haven…
…Maybe the soccer players who made this grassy place their battlefield…
…every kick brings them either to ecstatic joy or exaggerated sadness…
…It must also be the ones unmindful of time…
…Or perhaps the children’s laughters whose minds are pretty innocent of how the world works…
…Perhaps those lovers (of life, of solitude, of sports, of problems, of darkness, of lust…)
…The dogs that once caught my attention…
Or maybe the ice cream or the cheese sticks…
…Probably the oval which shines under the bright sun and glows with the moon’s smile…
…The old buildings as old as those acacia trees…
…Or maybe the ‘me’, I left here a long time ago…
…The ‘me’ who has learned to sink with the sunken one…
…The ‘me’ who always smiles with the rays of the sun…
…and the ‘me’ who was once taught to hide when darkness comes…
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