Mom lived in a Dream

 

A flame and... 

Who can that woman be

My muscles dare not tense

Unbelievable sight of reality

I stare through a barbed-wire fence

Hence I sighted her sparkling eyes

Drowning in a pool of tears 

Believe it, or greet it 

A pocket full of lies 

But closer her footsteps coming

The mystery clears. 

She is, who once was

Living then

But in vain 

Nothing blocked the separation 

A wind blew out the flame 

And there was the end. 


A poem I wrote at 15 when papers and pencils became my best friends