The heat is unusual even the olive grove
looks tired, old trees gasping waiting for
sundown. Yet the evening is still hot and
no breeze soothes tired leaves.
Every august I tell myself that next year
I´ll go to Norway to cool down. But what
I´m going to do there, it will be raining and
I never had an umbrella.
In my old home town I will be walking up
and down streets trying to catch the old
magic, that perhaps wasn´t there in
the first place, there were moments when
on Sunday forenoon, I used to walk to my
aunt´s house, we smoked cigarettes, drank
coffee and ate coco macrons.
On my walks I will only see young faces of
a new generation who has not in common
with me, and it will sadden me to see old
building torn down and replaced with new
shining office edifices ….And I will take
the first plane back to Portugal where my
elderliness is not a handicap.
Comments about this poem (Nostalgia by oskar hansen )
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