Flowers Falling From the Narra Tree

Flowers Falling From the Narra Tree

I watch though this rusty gate

As the wind lightly blows through my fingertips.

Flowers, yellow, beautiful, gently fall,

Trampled by passersby on these dirty streets.

Aurora’s death, May afternoon,

Season ends with promise of return.

And Dolores’ song is on my stereo,

“Summer’s over, it’s the golden rule”, she said

And strums the guitar to a lonely fade.

Narra tree stands sturdy, tall,

With dying leaves and bloody barks.

Roots that crawl through earth and time,

A silent witness to 1970’s crimes;

But flowers will always be yellow, beautiful.

Children dance, learn spring free,

To catch and hold a petal in their hands.

I, in my childish thoughts and reverie,

Forever keep petals in my heart this day.

So, be still, spirit sublime of mine.

Flip through these glossy pages, malign!

Stare not to these staring blue eyes,

For time is harsh yet fair

To these brown hands I declare!

For soon will these indio eyes see,

When clouds shall part and darkness fall.

And I, with grains of faith in me,

Shall join the wind and fly away.

And flowers will always be yellow, beautiful

Though they’re crushed, they will always fall.