Golden watch

Summer returns as a memory of a childhood,
as a shadow of the time when we were able to wonder
to be surprised and to love,
without apprehension.
While I am like Crusoe exploring the vicinity
in search of a private spot with a river view,
the calendar announces June.
I hope for a day of solitude, for the corridors of a hotel
where I can slide unnoticed like a ghost,
a lunch in a cafe, where no one ever speaks,
a walk in a garden
abandoned centuries ago,
a nap under open windows
with aroma of steaming fields.
I hope for a day which I can make as long as I desire,
as long as it would take me to get bored
not because of its length but because of its content -
a day that can't be measured with any known device.
I hope to dress in white and open tall glass doors,
walk outside in the boiling air of noon
take my golden watch from my wrist,
place it on the burning surface of the parking lot
and step on it
with my
high
heel
shoe.

(c)Irena Flowers              2010