(for my Mother Danuta in Heaven)

a warm September day,

the thirteenth,

your birthday, Mom

smell of coffee on the terrace

sun is frolicking in the asters

there is a pergola in the middle of the orchard

entwined with wild ivy

you are sitting in a rocking chair

squinting your eyes to the sun

and smiling to yourself

how do you measure the past

that burned in a furnace of loss

how do you embrace the seasons of oblivion

what pattern do you cut from the fabric of longing

I look at you from a distance

and regret all those lost years

you rock in your chair and eat an apple

I just need to cross the orchard

and I could nestle in your arms again

feel the soothing warmth

listen to the heart beat

just like when I was a child

a sudden gust of wind

brought clouds of mourning

shadow fell across the aster

I gaze back at the gazebo

and know now, that you are not there

my heart flutters

it refuses to accept

I close my eyes tears flow

you are trapped under my eyelids,

Mom

and you have a warm place in my heart

Mom …

© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak