Remembrance of Times Past

I have been in my mind
revisiting Bali

back before drugs and surfers,
before the century turned.

Some things, I’m sure,
haven’t changed.

There will still be offerings
left on the paths:

tiny trays of woven palm leaves
filled with rice and flowers.

Processions of villagers will still
tread the rock path to Tanah Lot.

At Ubud, water trickling downhill
unseen through vines

will still tinkle
and the thick, dark leaves glisten.

I wanted to stay there then,
in the Island of the Gods.

But that was when I was young
and thought I would live forever.

That was before the nightclubs
and the bombs.

November Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge 2010: 1
Prompt: a "closing the door" or "turning the page" poem