Papa's Poem

Papa's poem

In vain you rummage the dusty photos

And look for the mother's eyes among them.

You find them,

But this is not mom

Even if the image may look like her

For you, the mother is something else

Something invented, and to be had,

Now only a memory,

When we live without her, like this

In a male story with bachelor's flair.

I don't know are you going to get this:

The people get born,

live

And meet each other.

And it looks to them they've found happiness

That they follow a lodestar together.

After that

The star begins to rust

Aguments start, who is to blame.

To papa mom suddenly looks alien.

To mom the papa is grey, always same.

And marriages sink like crumbling vessels.

And rot at the bottom of foreign seas.

And the mom finds some different heavens.

The life must go on, whatever it means,

Everything reminds of her always;

Wherever you turn, you feel her breeze.

And you dream, here she is,

On your pillow,

Tender and caring, with love and ease.

Believe me,

There was in the beginning

The beauty in me and in the mom.

Let us forget the ugly things.

They do not exist for a long time.

While we are living so, like two pals,

Does it seem to you we are alone?

Am I not something quite yours?

Are you not something quite mine?

And don't snuffle here gloomily to me

While searching through the pictures of that age.

Mom, she is not a piece of paper

Wth a glistening trace of herself.

Take a short peek at the mirror:

you'll recognize something of her image,

Just like I often recognize in me

Someone quite dear to myself.

If you meet her sometimes later in life

Now seeing your fairy's image instead,

Sweep off the wrinkles from the mom's face

And do not get disappointed.

You should know, everything changes,

And the mom, too.

The years tread them down,

Stealing their glamour.

But you have to,

In order to become a man,

Always keep her in yourself for your own sake,

Beautiful image and young forever.

Miroslav Antić