The tropics are here
In the yellow curves on the table
And in my pocket.
Banal fruits we give for granted,
Travelled in group
Scared and green
To my table.
Like migratory birds at their first adventure,
That changes with my life,
Where will you take me next?
My feet are tired, my soul still insatiable
Of moments full of questions
And instants with the legs up.
Fascinated by the sharp seasons
Alternating outside the lab window
I wonder how many seasons are needed
To ripen a scientific mind.
When questions turn into action
And words follow the ideas
It is ready.
I see your young eyes investigate the lab
Still blind to the unsolved forms
In each corner.
The will to learn comes with a fear
and a personal journey
That is never considered and hard to predict
Your basis is solid yet green
Holding promise for us all
Too old but not too naive not to be still afraid.