<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=494886" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old Man Who Comes Back To His Old Hometown</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">the days indeed pass by swiftly<br>the seasons are like the flaps of a bird's wing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">our moments are like the movements of billiard balls<br>we hear sounds of collisions and then some colors are gone</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the boy that mother coddled before<br>died a few years back before growing his fingernails</div><div style="margin:10px 0">mother shrunk like a deflated balloon<br>and what is left is her scent of milk</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the sound of the cradle turns into a creak of an<br>old door<br>the footsteps of Papa on that pavement<br>are like the steps on the sand dunes easily blown by the winds<br>of changing times</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when you come back to a previous place<br>the faces that meet you give you the blank looks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">not even quizzical for no one knows you or any member of your family<br>your heart is an empty home looking for anyone</div><div style="margin:10px 0">who can remember the sounds of children<br>who can identify the games that once were played under the moon</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but there is no one there anymore and so you take the bus<br>heading to the new place of your existence</div><div style="margin:10px 0">you are like an old woman gathering the white cloth and the needle and<br>the colored threads</div><div style="margin:10px 0">beginning another design for another embroidery<br>and mo matter how sweet are the memories they have to take their exits</div><div style="margin:10px 0">giving chance to the incoming ones which to your mind<br>are not really that exciting anymore</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=494886" data-title="The Old Man Who Comes Back To His Old Hometown de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="the days indeed pass by swiftly the seasons are like the flaps of a bird's wing our moments are like the movements of billiard balls we hear sounds of collisions and then some colors are gone the boy that mother coddled before died a few years b..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black