It was an icy winter day, my parents handed
me to a stranger. We went on a train, to another land.
As I waved them goodbye, I didn’t know
I wouldn’t see them again, after that day.
I wouldn’t come home after school to my
mother’s honey and cinnamon cake, ever.
I wouldn’t be doing my homework at our
kitchen table listening to her singing
while cooking dinner. Nor would I smell
the herbal shampoo in her hair when she kissed me
goodnight. I would never see my father again,
reading his newspaper while smoking pipe.
In this other land, the house didn’t have the sweet smell
of pipe tobacco and no one was afraid. We went for walks
in the park every Sunday afternoon. We were happy and free!
But I can still see my parents becoming smaller and smaller
before they disappeared in the wintry horizon forever!