Fallen into Oblivion

No more guys and girls happily driving

   open-air convertible cars on weekends, 

   free of seat belts tethering their bodies,

   sweet winds swaying, fighting, and playing 

   their loose hairs.

No more

children walking on the streets to school,

   carrying notebooks in their arms,

   not in backpacks, not on buses.

No more

young boys playing marbles in holes

   they had dug on vacant lots near home,

   their mates flying kites heavens above.  

No more

family sitting on the front porch after dinner,

   sharing the latest neighborhood news.

No more

walking in the fields by night,

  under tender and puissant moonlight. 

No more

people greeting each other and sending good vibes,

   even if they were unknown.   

No more

fresh milk bottles delivered home by the morning,

   but milk boxes at immense supermarkets,

   with sleepless cameras furtively watching over us.

No more

letters, no business letters, no love letters,

   only emails to be lost in cyberspace.

No more

couples who face the difficulties of everyday life,

   profess mutual and sincere forgiveness,

   respect the common oath once made,

   so engendering true and honest love. 

No more

parents, sons, and daughters going out together at night,

   carrying in common dreams, dramas, and desires,

   like a pack of wolves that have not learned to segregate.

No more

growing, assembling, and sharing rooms and lives,

   indifferent to some strange customs of those

   who never knew to love and like themselves,

   our children becoming children of all of us.

(Written on November 19th, 2016)