Mother Poem, by nawrocka, at My poetic side

You liked the color of olives

And always wanted to change your last name

As it would alter your destiny

And redeem you from the pain of eternity

Your touch was rough

Your voice - it buzzes in my head

But I'm not able to memorize

the tone

You carried the smell of a second hand shop

The coats you wore were heavy and

I love them that way too

As a metaphor of

The mass of troubles on our shoulders

I was seeing you in my dreams for months after

Now

I don't even remember your face

(the face I was looking up to my whole childhood)

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Mother