Memory Fumes
To My Beloved Father

By Tatiana Pahlen

Again you walked into my dream
and filled my room with fumes
of zesty Dunhill and Hermes
wandering abreast.
Your athlete's frame is lean and broad,
the camera is zoomed
on your virile and handsome face
with an Eagle looks;
I discern on the upper lip
a prominent trademark,
one can flaunt with such a pride,
a razor-thin mustache.
The brown eyes, prying and clear,
gleaming from the dark;
I feel your breath is getting near,
my legs are numbed to rise.
Once again I dwell on fear:
I blink my eyes and you’re gone!

June 13, 2005

Copyright © 2005 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.