I can't show you the border On a man-made map On the ridge of our mountain we had four seasons I really miss that Pages Blank pages Fell from the sky And we all went running over Thrilled by the surprise Testing Testing Then it fell from the sky First it smelled like sweet apples First it smelled sweet Life is a lottery It favours the quick Memory is elusive Runs away, away, away with it I hear her singing to the plums and the grapes See her nimble hands sewing cotton and lace Bags which would protect fruit from bees All of these things I carry with me My sister's smile, my father's poetry But I know that I will never inherit My mother's trees