Hidden in the bottom

Frames pass by the window,

places already known but never watched because of the haste.

To every place a thought corresponds,

a memory which never be.

After all this running,

after much hard work,

here I am here, on the return train.

Here I am won over, veteran from the war,

getting out at an uncertain station,

beyond any delay, without a coin,

torn, dirty because of the travel.

And believing not to be worth anything,

deserving nothing just because having been unable

to guard a treasure, my diamond,

stolen by goodness knows who

escaped from the negligent tear

of a pocket.

and still hoping to find it

searching a worn hem of the overcoat,

precious, hidden in the bottom

May 16, 2006