The 12 year old me

Saw it all:

Her soft and rosy cheeks

Turn pale-

As the moon.

Her eyelids

Closing gently

With her eyelashes

Of wings of swans.

Her melodious voice

Tremble!

A tear pursue

Her face, yet

Her serenity prevail.

All the strength

Abandoning her

Yet, her power being there.

But then nothing-

They order-

So I leave the room.

I leave her view.

Yet, craved to be

In mamma's arms

They said

To come next day

But too see her

I wouldn't know where

She was not

In her red roses' garden

Nor in that gloomy room

I was there.

But she was not.

Not there- Not anywhere.

------ Now in my recollections

I run fast

In that gloomy room,

And I damn

Push them all away.

I grab my beloved

Mamma's arms,

And tell her

I am there.

I wipe that tear,

I kiss those cheeks,

And make them 'rosy' again.

I place my head

To her humble heart;

Make it stay awake

I speak all words

Of bravery

To give her

Strength again.

And if these

Actions fail me,

I tell her about

These days-

How I abhor

This solitude

(I often feel alone)

That after all

The years went by

Life had failed

To give

Her home.