Ed: Huh. Don't quite know what to say.

I watched the raindrops as they fell
slapping away at your grainy streets
where the pebbles from the quarry
smelled
like gun-powder over heat
when mixed with tropical dust and more
and rain and sun
and yards of lore
whether shirt-tailed
bare-backed
or bare-feet
I watched the refraction from the moonlit floors
of those two elegantly-junctioned
memory-filled streets;
where good friends did meet
in wide-eyed awe
and hugged
as they tried to greet each other
and did more
for the years lost
and the high costs
of happiness once fresh and sweet
now gone offshore.
Was some breathtaking feat my friend
for two eager eyes to see
as they watched with delight
the silver specks gleaming
and tiny golden nuggets streaming
as they headed out to sea
and the twinkling flakes shimmering
on being caught by surprise
every time they sparkled
during nighttime drizzles
and when caught up in the headlights
of intermittently passing cars
and on the misty eyelids
of recollections
still neatly compiled
still pleasantly tabulated.
And I saw a sardonyx I never knew
and an aquamarine too
whenever the rains fell
late into the edges of evening
and whenever the boundaries
of day and night were flooded.
And when the nights stood still
and were calm
and peaceful
and silent
like an innocent baby at sleep
I snuggled
while I struggled
with the strange newness of this tropical heat
but I didn’t mind;
not at all.