She was walking on the sidewalk
just around the corner from home,
from her place here is the city
so much a woman of her place
transported to the new land but unchanged
knowing full well her piece of history,
in the old country, around the Second World War
She was of that greatest generation
if that is what they call it in Budapest,
or Warsaw, or Moskva, somewhere once held in the grip
the Communist Block, oppression.
A scarf pulled tight against the familiar wind
apron tied, over the heavy dress
head down, watching her steps
thick sturdy shoes, a shuffling gait
an old worn coat, perfect,
Living in the neighborhood
within the bubble of family and language
====
edited November 16, 2014
November 1, 2007 1:17pm
Babushka
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001,
2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014.
All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray
Foss for usage. See all 33,570+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
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