Memory Pleats
Since many forgotten things
lurked in the pleats of memory
we all knew the meaning of
the forbidden fruit and
we followed a blind man
as if we needed an errorless guide
at the start of the twenty-first century
and the man with the severed arm
hid behind the robin’s song
as if to decipher our thoughts
we often sat by our eastern balcony
to enjoy the fresh breeze
of the August evening
as it was obvious that we couldn’t
fool the children any longer
Manolis Aligizakis 