Imagine a time
before you were born;
grandfathers and grandmothers
just twenty and onward.
“Do you notice the single star tonight?”,
he thought.
The night didn’t answer
except for a slipstream,
“Yes, you saw it too?”
He thought of his next chance meeting,
she leant back from a window;
many years before it happened.
An unclouding of a name,
next the star was your mother,
the direction of another theme in kind;
it was then in father’s mind.
Another sky, another night
under lamplight, trees burned autumn incense,
thoughts released the glow
of small similarities, you were born again.
“Did you notice the single star tonight?”
“Yes, but I see two.”
