July 19, 2008
By Yamini Nabar, Short Hills, NJ

That tree in the distance points the way to your grimy porch,
The one of healed bruises, card games, and sunbathing
Now, in the darkness, the stars do not glimmer
Nostalgia rises up in me like the swelling of a wave
Challenging my fear of heights, pushing me higher and higher
Suddenly, I plummet into a void

I see little blue gems lining the pathway to the past
The uneven stones of an ancient house shine
Behind healthy greens and hyacinths
And the memories will burn in my soul
Boiling irately, hissing with a cobra's stealth ferocity
A rash spreads within my body, wonderful and unbearable
Outside, there is nothing

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