we were gathering on the narrow bench
near the plank table
a polenta wheel was steaming golden
under the forty watt bulb lamp
grandma was untying her headkerchief
grandpa was slicing the onions in the middle
their yellowish core was for me

now there’s only yellow in my eyes
the sun rolling over round haystacks
the home made panettone color
dandelions blooming and burning on Easter
my loved ones’ faces shivering on hot days
close to their last gate

my God why did You left so much gold in my hands
the osier leaves climb down yellow
on abandoned pathways
I’m exhausted like trees
I shall dream on these days
within a white butterfly sleep

Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Golden

  1. aloha Cristina. I like the connections you make with yellow/gold in this. I know similar connections.

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