Evenings are gone
with the fleeting shine of childhood.
Their charming light declined
upon the oceans of night.
Only brief sparkles shake the trembling
surface of their waters,
as frayed remnants
of ancient dreams.
On their deeps are diluting
the feast days, the ripe pulp
melting into the mouth sugared by laughs,
the tinkling scent of a must
on the wide shared table,
the eyes as beacons in the mist
beyond the horizon of the world.
With the peaceful gleam
of the first naivety
the golden dust
of countless twilights
is shredded,
eclipsed by the faint frost
splashing out the inscrutable
vail under the dim silence
of the stars.
Their sumptuous vessels overflowed
by irrecoverable treasures
have sailed out with the last flag of the day,
dissolving into such a deep
distance than even the most penetrating
eyes cry in the short-sightedness,
abandoned at the irretrievable longing
of childhood.
https://searingwords.wordpress.com/2023/06/28/horizon/
