,Picture 129
Written: © Maxima 

It’s all the same.
Very few images
Slightly yellowed
Winding dusty road at dusk, as
The last rays of sun
Shine over the haystacks’ shadows,
And the almost crumbling
Heavy wagons
Drag along series of roads
Carrying a bit of grass and
Tired farmers.
I remember
We sat,
You and me,
Beside the dusty road, and
Cuddled away
The setting sun with your
Big lips
Rosy cherry.
I know
Now you
Smell endless fields
Of hot scones, and
Sugared greasy bread from
Our first kisses in cornfields.
I was your prince, and
All your tiny pearls
Carried me
Always at heart.
I was the one
Who made dreams come true.
I wanted to take you
Take you somewhere,
Where we would be alone
Far from all.
I led at Yalta
I ran in Las Vegas, and
We were like
The real gamblers and daredevils
We only dreamed of…
And on the sands
When we walked barefoot
Along the beach
Past volleyball
I was writing this,
The most beautiful verse,
For you
First love.
When you wanted
A whiff of roses
I’d pick a rose,
But you do not know that
Because I was embarrassed.
First love,
That’s why.
When sitting with you on the bench
I brought you two or three gum, and
You would still not know…
There was
a gentle breeze
Before our eyes met.
I see there are still
Low wooden fences,
Flocks of geese and
The old walnut tree.
Thousands of memories, like
Bells ring
From this vast canopy
Combining two hearts
On the porch of the old farmhouse
Where now there is none,
Only memories.
This, while watching another youth
Who now etches on
The huge walnut tree
Defying the shadows of skyscrapers.
For itself, and
In thy name
I say…
Let it be for those with
A thousand old walnuts of
Happy memories collected,
As long as
I’m Collecting
My rosy cherry.
I love you!

Picture 130