A snowy afternoon
by the time of Christmas.
The heaven is dark, but
millions of lights are glittering
from every street,
in the city
or maybe even fourteen,
a most sensitive age for a girl,
who still hadn’t been kissed
or looked for.
“Ah”, I say,
and stop in front of
the large store-window
“Look, mom, what a beautiful red coat!”
I can hear her frown when she says:
“You, who are so insignificant and gray,
shall not wear red.”
Later on I get a new winter coat,
a gray one, with a collar buttoned
up to the chin.
And I can still feel the pain.