Oma - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
To visit you was our treat,
my older brother loved you.
Though from the moment we did meet
you thought I wasn't up to
the standards of a first-born son
whose name was true tradition.
Yet you allowed us to have fun
and Opa took us fishing.
Each afternoon, cocoa and cake:
At three o'clock precisely.
You'd built from scratch this special bake,
'twas tasty, went down nicely.
I still recall your hairy hand
that held the kitchen knife.
Two slices cut, as per demand:
Our faces grew alive.
Those were the days and they did end
but what I failed to see,
is why my brother's piece of cake
was always bigger
than was the one for me.
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