First Day Poem by guillermo veloso

The yellowing eyes embrace the yellowing sun and follow its arc through the white fence
I am seeking crumbs of memories like the chango
that dart in and out of the just painted fence
Crumbs of memories
Something to hold on close to on the dying day
Shadows fall in the words in sleep
Shadows in the darkening room
Old stories, new ones to me
Hands clasped across the strange sheets of a strange room
Her life in a shed with padlock and cold industrial paint.
Memories of a life left in boxes and covered in bedsheets
But these are not of her making
No memories to scrape up
No memories to sustain
Only the pain left in the shade of the first day of
The dying days