You are the time machine,

bringing me back to my youth

when love was nothing but sitting side by side

at school’s cafetaria,

drinking ice tea

for we run out of money.

You take me to the yard behind our school’s building

People said: ghosts are there!

But you take me there anyway

You said, “That’s the best place for stargazing.”

Then you lay your body down,

eyes looking up,

your fingers pointing to the sky

“You’re pointing to a star?” I asked

“No, idiot,” you replied. “That’s a planet. Stars shine, planets don’t.”

O, how life could be so simple and meaningful,

by counting stars and planets up above.

Clouds are blanket

and your arms are my pillow.

We sleep and wake up by the sound of birds chirping.

And we wave goodbye,

because Sundays are made for God,

not for couples.

And so I go to the church nearby

praying, worshiping, reading Psalms

To God Almighty I plea:

take me to the future with my baby

*This poem was originally written on 25 September, 2016.

Time Machine