Plantation

The minute details of life.
Back when i was young,
running and ducking to avoid
that Naartjie tree branch
before i ever heard about the Nazi's Hitler,
I remember Stalin & how i would spend hours
admiring his mothers backyard.
My fantasies were vivid as a ten year old.
Now the house on the corner appears in my dreams,
I remember picking up an old coin
before being told to return it to the streets.
Who knows what curses it keeps
for generations who were struggling
to atone for their sins.
"All that glitters isnt gold."
I am the son of a wise man
who never grew old.