The taste of choritos
drenched
in the sour juice of
bright yellow lemons,
still fresh on your tongue;
the spray
of the salty shore
that somehow
always
manages to envelop you
wherever you go;
Tía’s laugh, -
the way
the corners
of her eyes
crinkle when she
smiles -
that musty,
warm,
laughter-filled home,
ripping at the seams
with love
as pure
as gold.
a thousand other feelings you
succumb to,
with every intention of
letting them hold you;
that home
and
everything
else you’ve ever
known now seems
unreacha b l
drenched
in the sour juice of
bright yellow lemons,
still fresh on your tongue;
the spray
of the salty shore
that somehow
always
manages to envelop you
wherever you go;
Tía’s laugh, -
the way
the corners
of her eyes
crinkle when she
smiles -
that musty,
warm,
laughter-filled home,
ripping at the seams
with love
as pure
as gold.
a thousand other feelings you
succumb to,
with every intention of
letting them hold you;
that home
and
everything
else you’ve ever
known now seems
unreacha b l
