She laughs at the perfect way
She spins the dreidel
And says to me out of nowhere,
'I must have gotten that from Pepere....'
This, and the cowlick above her forehead
That now frames her face.
'The worst day of my life, ' she wrote in her school essay,
'Was the day that my Pepere died.'
One and a half pages of words
Scrawled messily in pencil
Tell of fishing and rowboat rides and the camp.
A child's memories:
Not dissolving like dreams upon waking
Or snowflakes on the tongue -
But stronger and more tenuous
Than an oak's roots.
Emerging from gently layered
Folds of thought;
Bolstered by love and truth,
Undiminished by time or tears.
A child's memories shine across the valley in dreamland. This is interesting to view new Age of expression. An amazing poem is shared.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice memories. Thanks.