Friday, January 09, 2009

Milena Abrahamyan: Yerevan, 1994

In the winter my father brought wood and kerosene,
filled the heater
as the sun was going down.

We tore paper from last year's notebooks
to get the fire started,
and then to keep it going.

After 7, the other rooms were dark
and unwelcoming in the cold.
We huddled by the old round table,

watched the stories
our older sister was drawing
about carrots and tomatoes talking.

We did not hear anything
other than childhood calling
from the playful flickering candles.

1 comment:

Evil triplet said...

Oh man! how I miss those days!.......those were probably the most happiest times of my life, although I may not have felt so back then,I certainly feel it now ;) thanks sis for bringing back such warm and fuzzy memories, Love <3