" Mother"

This black and white photo there- on my wall is of you, Mother at 15 or 16 taken during the height of WWII. In your life the devastation was not yet apparent- still, it would come in only a few years. Then, you were a petite beauty with banana curls an epitome of grace- a teenage Scarlet O'Hara... and your gown, the Persian carpet on which you stood- these were the signs of an era soon ended. In 3 years the Soviets came and our family's noble distinction dissolved with the past... Even the family estate where the photo was taken; that majestic house would crumble to ruin... While today, atop my bookshelf is another picture, this one's in color, the year's '59... ( it is of my parents' wedding.) And you, Mother are shown in semi- profile still beautiful, though hauntingly so... for you've a weariness that I, poet know as the reflection of ghosts of Budapest's fall - there, in your eyes.