Posted in Poetry

Wintry Horizon

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!

Author:

I can not decide if I am a teacher who writes or a writer who teaches, both activities give me equal satisfaction. Words are my secret place. I write about my experience as a mature student, mental health, living and raising a family in a foreign country, following my dreams and finding love later in life.

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