 Only when lost
By Laleh Ghadiri
June 12, 2003
The Iranian
Watching duration take its toll, we reminisce our
springtime of life, our
nostalgia of youth unfolding and unfolding only to expose cloudless
memories
of summer
We rediscover vintage recollections of the first
impatient winds blowing
through grandmother's vivid
lime-green and rose curtains, through and through the
stale-stricken house
Of ice-cream trucks trickling down the street
and the carefree sound of
children's laughter as fresh as foggy mornings
Of scrappy
tomboys wedged between oak trees and dazed neighborhood passerby
drenched with water balloons
Of immaculate mud pies glistening under
June's fiery sun
and games of one on
one with the kid around the corner
Of pink banana seated bikes with
white flower baskets and
ruby- red scrapped knees
Of casual races through cold relentless
sprinklers and water drops arising
the smell of fresh glossy green grass
Of the shadeless moon awakening
daredevils
Of light tag in the obscure black dark and mysterious
stories about the
ripened lady next door
And of soft water puddles splashing
plastic yellow galoshes
Always yearning for memories frozen in time,
we cherish these dusty antiques
only when lost.
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Only when lost
