Moment Poem by Marek Swierad

For many years, I didn’t pay attention to it...
on the bank of the river a birch grows, right beside the water.
reflecting the white bark
from my dreams.

In the search for happiness
I entered
the cemetery.
Rows of crosses are covered with the branches of willows,
small leaves wash out the past from tombstones.
Wading through the leaves of sins
I met you
you smile at a photo on a tombstone.
You are wearing flats that are the color of red...

...hot red lips.
When I look in the mirror, I see myself... without you.
The part of the mirror, where you should be, is covered in dust.
The layers of dust
pile on top of each other, forming years.

I took you by the hand, feeling the warmth of your body,
saying turn around...
Smiling, you looked at me...
in picture.