You thought your little night-light would always warm

that crisp black world till you were all grown up,

and the morning sun would greet ivory oak orbs

driving past the fields of buttercups.

 

You thought life was a delicacy cradled

in a dove feathered pillow stitched with hugs,

for blissful it was when sunlight was ladled

pouring through the pine trees as we caught lovebugs.

 

You thought of all but the unexpected thing

and when life rolled its waves — towards home it was bound,

your little night-light had switched off that spring

before you could've even looked around.

My dinners have become

wisp clouded midnights

in cafes of glistening 

dejavú.

 

Waves of owl eyes flood the room

as the steam in each wistful sip

of chocolat chaud fogs my 

view

 

and while waiting for it to cool

I am reminded of you by watching 

the sky turn a bonnet-

blue.

I remember when you craved the jug of whole milk fresh from the fridge,

that sipped smoothly down your stomach without a stitch

but now it bubbles and knots in an urge to heave,

chokes me so hard until I can hardly breathe.

 

I remember how long you waited to taste those white pillowed grains

grown in beds of warm grassy plains

but now they sit on my plate at almost every meal

as I poke with my fork to a long lost appeal.

 

I remember when you thought hello was “mi hao”

to those infant ears every word was as alien as a cat’s meow,

但是我现在几乎能说那种语言了。(but I can almost speak that language now)

that took far too long for my heart to allow.

 

I remember everything as if I knew you yesterday

but each morning I wake up 14 hours earlier and 8,500 miles away

so when these memories overflow as reminiscent as they be

I can't help but wonder if you are still even me.

Big bells, golden, ring down the sidewalks again

of cold concrete air I suddenly smell, then

​

we sit we stand, feet scuffle on concrete quick

senses abstracted from an accent too thick

​

hands softly clasped as I walk down queue

where heads turn on each side to meet eyes new

​

I rush back to kneel where palms and mind cave

to rest, be caressed, ‘neath the wild brine waves

 

softly lids close, where in my soul I find

that in this peace, suddenly, I don't mind.

​

As the black bird swoops and sings in the wind

the Bible’s word also streams in her hymn,

​

then foggy brown orbs are wiped clean to see

that He had paved another beautiful path for me,

​

as big bells, golden, ring down the sidewalks again

I leave in trust with what’s been given to say Amen.