L'aura del Campo

Sycamores [312]

Sycamores

Whither old sycamores of my mother's childhood;
         how long since they cut down our elm?
Whither cold tears I spilled hidden in the closet;
         how vast the regrets I still shed?
Whither warm loaves of bread my grandmother baked;
         how long can fragrances linger?
Whither new memories I can never remember;
         how do those sycamores persist?

© Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.312] (17.januar.2022)

8 lines 12/8 with anaphora.

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EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT   (13+) Poetry-sharing Activity for expression and entertainment! #2232169 by Solace.Bring