Day 710 of the Daily Poems. Victoria Dessau, our poet today, is in pensive mood. Remembering.
November and I remember
I’ll take you at your word. So, I’m thinking
of chrysanthemums. Oh no, better not.
Although these flowers with their spherical,
spread-out leaves are in a rhythmic order.
Nevertheless: I’ll stick with No!
Good, then the dwindling days. That’s actually where
my problem starts. The early afternoon is important.
A second walk is on the agenda – every day! And when it gets
dark at 3.30 or 4.00, only a headlamp and flashing collars help.
Early darkness is not good. No, no dwindling days!
And then we have the lengthening shadows.
Hmm, that’s more than promising.
In the café around the corner with Jack,
white, more a mini horse than a Greyhound
Gentleman through and through! Down to earth.
A young man sits down at my table. We slowly
start talking. I feel his sadness. Insignificant things
are exchanged. Jack raises his head and keeps his
eyes on this person. I notice this.
He started to talk. About his grandparents.
About life as a young boy and as an adolescent.
A sad story unfolds before my eyes.
No more hope that leads to a continued life.
I return home with Jack. The welcoming procedure
with Mollie is, as always, joyful. Standing at the window
I think of my grandparents who raised me.
My grandmother died. Too early for my age at the time.
The young man’s grandmother had to go because she was
terminally ill and it was a kind of release.
I cannot sleep that night.
Victoria Dessau
