They were tenders,
having wandered far
collecting souvenirs of innocence
from Paris to Kathmandu,
they built a castle from the ground up.
They had four princesses,
pink and delicate,
petals close against their cheeks,
long necks stretched,
toward sky and sun.
stairwells and corridors,
pillows were sown with tears and dreams
that glistened in the dark.
Each object had a story--
each child's walk through life
photographed on the walls.
The jewel of the crown was the garden:
lush, verdant and
prettily dotted with baubles
yellow, purple, red framed by green.
The garden was nurtured,
buds and saplings gently,
more sternly as they grew,
by the two caretakers.
Until there was only one.
like a hand across the face of the earth.
The garden turned a shade of gray.
For a moment.
For ever.
the fresh scent of tears.
Each object has its history.
Images of childhood adorn the walls,
porcelain dolls smile and dance,
frozen in time.
Four thrones stand empty.
The Dowager Queen takes wing and flits,
like her subject butterflies,
to the daughters who have
scattered in the wind.
She returns each time
to the highest tower of the castle
and to her lonely vigil.
still bloom and wither with the seasons,
stretching their slender,
infinitely graceful necks
toward sun and sky.
Manila, 20 October 2009
Copyright Sol Iglesias
All rights reserved.
Images photographed on an iPhone & doctored in iPhoto.
Made on a Mac.
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