Liran Weizman

Don't Say Goodbye

The voices of children fill the playground
Seventeen floors up when the clock strikes three I hear jubilant song
Voices free me from my dark dungeon
Where SAT Flashcards scatter the floor
The bright screen of my Mac
Attempts to illuminate the room
My eyes ache pouring over the screen
Those were my summer days.

I remember last summer
I run, skip, play
Swing on the purple monkey bars
My feet barely skimming the astroturf.

My Hong Kong playground
The sandbox cluttered with forgotten toys
Swings rusting away
The old battered tree I could always climb.

I remember the little kids
One of them captured my heart
A boy with sandy hair and magical brown eyes
Rohan was his name.
Before his nanny would take him home for supper
I played with him.

Before he left for supper
Rohan’s eyes would water
Our play time was over
He never knew if this goodbye was the last
His little arms would hold onto me.

When I was with Rohan I need not worry
Whether they would judge me
Make fun of me
I forget about summer assignments
When I was with Rohan I was in the moment

I watched the boy grow for the last three years
Every summer I would come to Hong Kong
I would walk by the playground
Each day
Searching for the boy with sandy hair.

The summer of ‘05
The summer of ‘06
The summer of’ 07

Each summer represents a meeting
Whether it took him a month
Two weeks
He always remembered me in the end.

As for the summer of ’08
I wonder will I look for Rohan?


Copyright 2002-2008 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2008 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.