Hannibal
/by Sejo Pan
The museum closes at four o'clock
Leaving the long lingering afternoon, along
The quiet red brick paved road
All the way to the river shore.
Locked too is the haunted house.
Nothing to do except chatting with the antique store owner.
Alas, another literature lover nostalgic of
Childhood memories.
You left and never returned
Still we came all the way following stories we heard about you
The outlet of the winding memory lane, is always
The river with shinning sunlight.
Wouldn't mind joining the fence brushing as a naughty child
Only afraid this paint, can't be mixed back to the color of
Early spring green.
The Mississippi runs without return.
We can only find our way in following route sixty-one
Before the snow melts, to feel again
The frozen sun rays of 1850.
In the shadow of the early sleeping town
The trace of a person quickly disappearing on Hill Street
Must be someone
Neither able to walk into dreams
Nor back to childhood
A tourist, maybe.