The White Tower

The shining white tower,

Within it there are many rooms,

Inside, it’ll seem itself a part of you,

In concert with you,

Making some sort of wonderful magic,

It’ll form around you,

And the days and nights will burn bright,

Color will catch on the air and scatter,

Like fairy gold,

And you won’t miss it at the time,

Until you try to bottle it,

Time, later, within the prism of your memories,

I remember my time,

Passing under a great tree,

Feeling its waxy-cool leaves caress my face,

I remember the soft sheen of honey on bread,

I remember the faces of my family,

Together once in the white tower,

Now scattered like fairy gold