Four-thousand eyelid-blankets ago,
when I jump-roped with the sunbeams,
           the stars splashing through my dreams

           maple leaves swirling
           in their brittle-breeze balance
           burrowing at the balcony,
           
                                    and the dandelions spurted from sidewalks
                                    with the Greenest melodies --
                                                so wind-combed and Unlocked.

                                                                                    The walls, the candles, the rickety roofs --
                                                                                          microwaving our hearts.
                                                                                          aunts, cousins, grandpas, uncles
                                                                                               perched molecules apart.

Mom and Dad
              had their pillows placed Side-by-Side.   
                                      
                                Desires were so tangible,    
                          and Hearts were never sold.                                                                           
                                                                                              
And I unravelled my brand-new body
                      on the cornflower couch
                      with thoughts pure and warm
                      in my round-rose head,
                               whispering snores at
                               my mother's lithe lap.

                                                                     Thinking that peace and hope
                                                                                         could really be sailing
                                                                                                                         across every sky  
                                                                                                                         splashing our eyes
                                                                                                                                             with rippled light.

But now I've fallen
             into the ugly quaking        wheelbarrow-hill       of Time.
                                                                                     this Earth is one tree.
                                                                                     a Century -- one leaf.
                                                                                     a Generation -- one vein.
                                                                                     a Family -- one drop of dew.
                                                                               and a Life -- one molecule.

             And all will sprout. All will blow.
                                                           All will explode.
     
                                                           And snippets of some random blurs --
                                                                  will be stacked and         left behind.

                                                                  And I don't know why
                                                                         it keeps me up at night
                                                                            trading sleep for poems
                                                                      and always so obsessed
                                                                                       by the Epilogue of my Heart Beats
                                                                                                 and the details that will die.

                                                            But I will open my eyes
                                                                    to this cottage of affection
                                                           And I will not forget
                                                                                        about the people
                                                                                                       who carried me away
                                                                                                              to the Heart Valves of this World
                                                                                                              and gave birth to my hope.

                                                                                        I will be Grateful for this day.

                                                                                                     And yes: they will Know.




                                                                                                           They will Know how much I Love them.