Lost Treasures
I can see the green trees outside the square wooden frame,
On a plain of hardened brown sand,
With spots of golden sunlight bouncing off a tiny stream at the edge of the forest;
A ray of light hits my eye and a bird glides past my window
Carrying in its tiny beak a broken twig,
A twig I’ve seen many a times nudged between the cracks of crumbling temples,
As I take the stairs two at a time I hear a familiar chirp.
The tree outside my window comes to view and I see a splash of blue amidst the green.
I stand, I gaze, at the tiny blue bird building its nest
I wish, I yearn for the silhouette of crumbling temples, the hardened brown soil of the Mexican Valley.
When will I ever see the ancient ruins of my favourite Aztec temple?
Or ever feel the rush of unearthing lost treasures…when???




