I long for wide avenues

through kapoks, teaks

and gooseberry trees.

I long for the thrum of roots,

silent life, pulsing heavenward

through flexing, striding feet.

I long for the soft sun behind

spent clouds, slats of dazzling

silver, lighting the fluid earth.

I long for the tickle of raindrops

sliding off bowing leaves, and white

sneakers bathing in orange pools.

I long for the free larks, resting on

slatted orange benches, gazing

with eyes, pools of tender joy.

I long for their cool palms, pressing

on my crown, willing me to raise

my eyes, the horizon beckons.

I long for wide avenues, floating

winds of silent whispers, lone

companions keeping pace.