From My Father's House

By X.F. Aguilar

Before I Forget
Golden Gloves
The Fact
Friends Until the End
Racing Hearts
Infinite Review

About the Author




The river’s flow is slow and quell
as it’s swell meets with mud and stone,
with memories as my crowding wealth;
steadily traveling this place alone.

At night the great moon is a lamp.
It shows me whereto I should sleep;
ground and rock as bed to tramp
and green walls embrace me deep.

When shadows fall on hills to the right
and the sky is cloaked in gray
my thoughts succumb to which is contrite
in reality of yesterday.

That time when youth was so apparent;
your hair of chestnut hue,
how seasons portrayed their content
and how the one was two.

Upon the billow now I ride
forever quenching the welling thirst.                 
I gaze at the valley to my side
as spring excels an expressive burst!

  © X.F. Aguilar, 2012