Hi, @hlezama! Thanks as always for your thorough read.
>I'm guessing these images are from Texas, where you lived before you went to NC and where you have returned after that interim.

Correct :-)

>I was commenting to @zeleiracordero how these images and some of the lines reminded me of my visits to my hometown, after having left for many years, after so many things have changed and had been forgotten, especially people and their stories.

I always experience a strong feeling of disorientation returning to my hometown, especially because I grew up in the same house my whole youth. So much has changed, yes—most of all, from the cruel horseblinding effect of ego, myself. How much did I really see around me, anyway? Where is the solidity of the past's template that I could sense the deviations? Then we have the turning of the seasons and the procession of the Earth through space. What can remain? Nothing feels familiar, and the sense that it should makes it all the more unsettling.

>I sense nostalgia (from childhood, maybe adolescence) highlighted by a first love, maybe. For me those are the most precious memories of our hometowns. 

I tend towards a somewhat solitary existence, for the last several years. My only intimate relationship occurred during adolescence's formative period and extended a bit into my college years. You might predict, given such circumstances, that years would erode the monuments of memory we built very slowly. You might also not be so surprised that such an experience would continue to serve as an archetype for realities and idealities of romantic love. I am supremely thankful to have had such an experience, because it has provided endless fodder for creativity. I'm not sure I would make much of a poet, had the experience of heartbreak not driven me to seek the solace of some form of personospiritual faculty through which I could transmute and make sense of what had occurred.

>So, in this poem I see this sort of liberating love experience, a childish one, but with the intensity and conflict of a Romeo and Juliet affair. One of the two is uprooted (tamed?)

Again, I am astounded and almost frightened by your ability to intuit what is behind a poem. Many times writing I am in a sort of reverie. I think of nothing but channel sound, cadence, and feeling. It's a meditation which is easily spoilt by over-efforting on my part. So, when I meet a perceptive spirit like you, I have the honor of meeting my poem more completely.

>I actually had a glade in the middle of a selvatic lot in front of my house. I would hide with my friends, play cowboys and Indians or explorers. As time passed our forest became a square and my friends became perfect strangers.

Wow. That reminds me that when my parents came to my hometown, they were the first house in the block. Beyond their fence was fields until the creek some distance from our house, and coyotes would come up from there to howl. Now, you have to search to find nature. It is all concrete.

>The love of my childhood will always have a special place in my mind and will always infuse those changed spaces of an aura of purity and transcendence beyond the mundane wars and truces, beyond the transgressions and disloyalties. No stains remain.

That's beautiful. I have a similar experience :-) Again, you managed to discern perfectly the feeling behind the phrase "our love is laved." You know, it's nice to know that if I'm ever confused about my poetry, I can ask Sifu Henry Lezama to explain it to me. xD