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Sharing Youth

January 10, 2012

Entering another new year, I think of the youth which I once had.  I wonder whether all the young people out there know they will be old one day. I remember Don’s story about being in his boyhood hideaway place–the attic–and running across a reference to the year 2000 in his Superman comic book.  He figured out how old he would be then: 64. “Yuck, how can anyone be as old as 64!”  (Don told the story this way, but he actually turned 62 in 2000.)

An Italian young man sits
in front of me,
on the train going to Florence.
His skin is on the dark side,
his eyes large, dark and soulful,
his lips thick and distinct,
sensuality dripping.
I imagine a girl waiting for him
somewhere, waiting for those lips.

I now see closed eyes
becoming two silver moons,
on that face, beautiful and vibrant
in quietude.

I was once young as he,
with hopes and dreams for the future,
but now I know how those dreams
turned out, my future
becoming shorter each day.

I bless his youth with a tiny bit of envy.
But I hope his future will be
as beautiful as his face.

In Florence,
we each got off the train.
He walked away.
But I parted from him
with gratitude in my heart
for sharing his youth with me.

I didn’t steal it.
It was there, his youth.

Dai Sil in Florence ( October 13, 2011)


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  1. Sabine permalink

    Lovely picture of you! From a lovely time in a magic place…

    • Yes, it was truly a lovely place. I am painting Tuscan skies these days. All those churches, paintings, . . . that reveal the grandeur of art were inspiring but I do miss the sky, olive trees, vines. . .that splendid nature more often.

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