Trans-Pacific flight with older brother,
cross Hebing street on foot with younger niece.
The house numbers skip from 21 to 25,
number 23 a phantom omission.
The only thing left of the old house is memories.
She looks in wonder,
she looks of mild regret.
Is this how 41 years feel:
a parking lot paved over a bygone back yard
hedged with still fragrant jasmine?
No comments:
Post a Comment