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