Lillian CASAZZA Portfolio

When the morning rooster crows,
and the air still holds
the stillness of the night,
my friend arrives on his bike.
The cloud of dust from his brakes 
knocks on my door.
Our plans, as certain as the sunrise.
We set off.
Whispering along familiar paths and watch her slowly stretch from her slumber.

We approach the bridge,
and wave to the Uncle that guards it with his fields.
A slender arc over the water,
barely wide enough for one,
but can somehow always fit two.
We cross side by side,
a silent pact of bravery and trust.

In the park, under the shade of ancient trees,
we sit on blue plastic chairs,
our thrones for the day.
Our rollerskates kiss the concrete, a jester around,
laughter echoing, a symphony of joy.

The river calls him out of his spell.
He touches the water,
while she is still here with us.
“Where do you come from?” the water asks,
“Where will you go?” the wind whispers.
In Da Nang’s embrace, there’s nothing to fear.
She protects us, through each step of our story.
But who protects Da Nang?