It’s all coming back to me:
the bark-brown hut in the forest,
the fairy within, the promenade in the night,
the heaven-blue scarves of perfume shimmering
through the air as we navigate the narrow streets.
It’s always been there
in the blood, in the veins of leaves
that dry and fossilize,
and who are we: reborn
like me, like the blood
compels the paths where
I, we,
rise and fall
again.