From the balcony

All those years I wrote lots of poems.
And I wrote them
at every place possible. In bed
and on the street. At the café,
while enjoying a coffee.
In a train, a tram
and even in a restaurant toilet … No need to mention,
now I’m on the balcony
of my apartment.
And I wrote about lots of different things;
About love and the thirst for it,
about pain, about sex,
about decay of the soul, elevation, about boozing…
And women . Yes, mostly about women.
It’s hard not to write about them.
And few of  ’em passed through my verses.
But still, there’s one that somehow
managed to avoid them all of this time.
She always slips away when the words flow
although she’s the most important woman of them all.
So what is it now
that makes me feel so melancholic?
You see, living on the other side of the world
I wake up every morning as a stranger
and only when she visits me in my thoughts
I feel at home.
She then boils a coffee, lights up a cigarette
and asks me about life
just the way she used to.
And I reply as I always have,
with too many words.
But I could have with only three —  I love you.
Honestly.
And now I’m writing these words. So  Mother,
if you ever happen to read this poem
know it’s dedicated to you.
With dots and commas just the way you like it.
From the balcony
on the other side of the world,
still searching for a perfect rhyme.
 
Look,
it seems like you didn’t manage to slip away.
 
Not this time.





©Tom Del Braco




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