Hot August nights
before my brother left
to serve
I would sleep outside
on the wide balcony
next to my parents’ room,
stretched out
on a lounge chair
like an offering
to the stars, my eyes
seeking out
familiar patterns
of gods, winged horses
and thundering archers-
men with fierce weapons
I still saw as heroes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Those were the days, those were the dreams. A delightful write. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX