Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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LIME TIME

I lie holding, like an over ripe
yellow lime, faded in a long
day dying, imported from
the north, Spring has barely
come here, and I have passed
another year, white wisdom
skiffs my temples of golden hair
though snow in the tropics is rare
memorial of my years from, that
morning before the cliffs of Dover
where our ferry broke the water
more metrically, a poetic journey
technically, tragic yet without despair
today a murmur of breeze and bees
my citrus trees flowering, boding
firm green fruit, bitter sweet juice
for drinks, in the late days of summer.




Jan G. Otterstrom F. November 10, 2011 Costa Rica