Whenever I look in the mirror
before leaving for work,
I remember my mother.
Her concept of beauty was wider than entire world.
‘Be beautiful in your soul and your body
in your life and in your death’, she used to say.
And this was our strictest rule. Unbreakable one
as there was just one key in our house.
This key was neither for the front door
nor for any money safe.
It was the key to a small shelf,
where my mother kept her wedding clothes.
I remember her
opening that small shelf every week,
cleaning those clothes,
putting quinces on them for a good smell,
talking with them as if they were her friends.
No one can remember since it was said
that brides’ clothes from their wedding day
should be preserved to be worn
in their day of death.
I do not know how many centuries
had travelled this feeling, this lesson
until it comes to my childhood’s home.
However when my mother died,
we dressed her on those clothes.
With no doubt, she looked
the most beautiful lady in world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.