A Poem

A poem about Cuba and the way I feel when I look back on how it must feel to lose your everything. 

1952

Looking back on the passage of time, I feel the pain of yesteryear;

Missed goodbyes and deep regrets, doused in the aroma of just-roasted coffee

The desire to return to an island so sweet and so bitter

Like an apple just past its prime.

The memories remain etched in black, white and grey;

Promises unkept

Lies unchecked

Hearts brimming with pain.

Her eyelids drop, mercifully;

Childhood giggles permeate the air

Bicycles scatter the lawn

Fresh pork and black beans simmer on the stove.

Blue eyes pierce into her soul;

Excitement fills her veins and love is true

She knows it is true.

 

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