Days with the Prince
by Hiền Nga
The sun was gloriously warm. The air was gloriously light. The sky was gloriously bright with an up-side-down whale-shaped cloud spraying water out of its back. There was a spring in my steps as I felt yellow rays of the sun flowing down my face.
It has always been this beautiful. The magical day two years ago we bumped into each other one last time in that small, deserted alley of Sài Gòn. The head-spinning day a year ago I laid you down with your favorite song and a thin, black ribbon on my wrist; Hà Nội to me is now all about it. All about it. And todays I walk around in the tenderness of the Fall, everywhere I wandered in Sài Gòn is that fateful alley, every breath I take in Hà Nội I sing your last song.
Everything about you in me, your crooked humor, your compassionate friendship, our shared naive rebellious idealism, everything is warm and happy. Like these beautiful days I’m granted. So much so it’s hard for me to let go.
Little Prince, you little rascal, where did the migrating flock of wild birds take you to tonight? Where among the night sky is my little bell that knows how to laugh?