A Letter to Lilia
Dear Lilia,
I'm writing you this letter in regard to the presence of my recurring memories, Lilia, they keep coming back, there is nothing I can do to stop them. I hope this letter finds you in the highest of spirits, the way I always remembered you, the excitement in your eyes like when you got off the ferry and we pledged our allegiance towards one another. Do you remember walking along the cobblestone streets down to the waterside? Lilia, do you remember rubbing the horse along the pathway, it was the only way up into the hills, all 436 steps of white and echo. You wanted me to swim with you out to the rock with the cross. We never swam Lilia, we never swam. Lilia the trail ended on the eastern side, we tried to go further onwards but we stopped, so we picked fruits from the trees and brought them home, and when you left in the morning, they were still there uneaten, they were still uneaten Lilia. The water was cold, the sky turned grey. I swam out to the rock that morning, made wishes when I was there, but none of them have come true Lilia, none of them. When I left the island, I thought that I would leave our memories behind, but here they are Lilia, they are still with me. The sun winking, the window still slightly open, assurances, and then the new day Lilia, do you remember those new days? Do you remember the Albanian children running up the steps past the olive trees? Do you remember guessing what they said?
My dearest Lilia the boats they traveled all around the harbor
And you look up - I see your face!
just beyond the fence over there
My dearest Lilia!
Oh Lilia!
Writer/s: Brian Joseph Wilson, Jason Edward Cieradkowski, John W Fesken, Joseph Mario Centeno, Mark T Townsend, Thomas Edward Barrett
