For who could stop farewells
One can only let out a smile
pretending to remember the infinite succession
of years
of days
hours, minutes
that had passed before that smile- a child of nostalgia
or a product of one's acceptance
that farewell is the easier way to go
about forgetting.
You marvel at an old friend's recollection
Both of you were trying the bike for the first time
He wanted to go home after the fall
You thought the scratches were painful
But you would never let go
of making it around that waterless fountain.
Now, you only remember the fear of falling.
You are not even sure you can still ride a bike.
Some afternoons, when everything seems busy
the clanging of metals from a house being built
the soft hum of the fan from your living room
some distant shouts of children playing ball, perhaps
You close your eyes for an instant
sip some cheap instant coffee
As you try to notice how it goes down your throat,
your eyes toward where the light of the setting sun
makes the greens of a tree brighter
You remember, you woke up late again.
But even that habitual self-reproach will fade
Like how a friend reminded you
of how you wanted to teach.
I have some years ahead of me.
I will welcome them like a sunny day after weeks of rain
It may be fleeting
before they become fragments
of stories my friends will remind me of
But I will see them pass by
as a child sees
a beautiful, colorful marching band
whose music can be heard even from later years
