The Other Side

this poem is a dedication to my father ,

Remember father? Those days when we used to walk together past the Herastrau River?

When everything was peaceful, the old oaks standing firm, rocketing towards the sky

When we used to lay down, close to the river, its ongoing hills, surfaced by the yellow-brown leaves,

Taking their time; slowly pacing with the wind.

 

 

Father... do you remember that giant hill across the forest?

When both of us, together; you holding my hand pulling me,

 Upwards through the rocky surface of the hill,

 Our boots sinking into the rotten, wet mud.

Stamping through mud in a continuous spiral of dirt,

 Your large strong hand, holding my little paw,

 For minutes we kept going,

 No...

 You kept going, kept stamping.

 I was just a mere shadow of your back, you were... you are my father.

 

Remember what you said to me on top of the hill?

 I will never forget.

 Your words had a consistency that of fresh honey.

I remember that moment,

 In all that hassling rain I looked in your eyes,

 The mud all over my boots was not important,

 My clothes being soaked to the skin was not important.

 The sky started to open small but yet gallant gaps of light,

 The rain stopped and out of a sudden,

  Out of a sudden a symphony of colours appeared in the celestial wall.

 

I remember taking my camera from my pocket, and laying it on a piece of rock,

 After a couple of seconds a white blanket covered my eyes and I could not see anything.

 I turned my head to the right and

 There you were looking in the same direction as I did.

 

But now father...

I cannot enjoy those days anymore;

 Here I am standing in front of you, all black and white.

 And as the red ropes of destiny, slowly drop you down I throw in half a picture.

 A picture of you to always keep me at your heart,

 The other half is mine to keep and always cherish till--

 Till -- we shall meet at the other side

Author's Note

this poem is only an interpration of a child remembering the days of his childhood with his father. it has but a mere correlation with my life