My home away from home
My seaside place,
Twice the size of my everyday space.
No Clutter, white walls;
Perfumed soap gift wrapped
Waiting for my return.
Sliding glass doors
Overlooking Atlantic ocean.
Sounds of the sea rock me asleep.
Ten blocks away, neon Casino lights.
My secret place; self- contained:
Restaurant, pool, movie theatre, gym.
I brought a lover once
His presence is long gone
Room 803, by the sea, is meant for me.
From my balcony I see a grand old brick mansion.
Three stories high, freshly painted wooden shutters,
Stain glass, wrap around balconies. Water-less fountain.
I spy the windows for signs of life.
A man enters a side door, only to leave soon after;
One out-side light burns all night.
I imagine a gray- haired lady lives there alone.
Her grandson checks on her everyday.
She knows Atlantic City in its hayday.
I want to drink a cup of tea with her and listen to her memories.
Did her family build the boardwalk; the steel pier?
Who was the love of her life? Is she happy still being here?
The gift of living long.
A treasure trove: landmark moments.
It only takes a listening ear to bring them back to life.
My grandmother Eva, born in Atlantic City,1920.
Great grand parents, Banford, left England, settled by the sea.
Atlantic Avenue where they lived, I walked by in wonderment.
I imagine a gray- haired lady who lives alone in the mansion
Holds the keys to my family’s past.
If only we could have a cup of tea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't know how you do it but you can lock me in with your writing, I think I said it before but you paint the picture perfect almost like I am there. Thank you for sharing this. I know how beautiful the sea is I live on the coast and it is truly mesmerizing.