Saturday 14 September 2013

Aasta May


[i.m. A.M.F., 5th May, 1927 – 14th September, 2005]

With our shared love of words, I wish I had spent
more time valuing the long and short of it all – the
beautiful balance of a vowel in your name, saying
I could leave when perhaps I should have remained,
then living so far away it would always be down to
the language to keep us close, expressions of love
never lost yet stretched across years and miles. Reading
between the lines of that distance is another act of poise,
but there are no shortcomings then or now, and these
words will not be rhymed to be more than sound.

Not yet. Your writing was always honest and true –
poetry and letters to a son in England, an amalgam
of our roots and selfless hope for my future, showing
me how to keep it simple: always Mom, not Mum.

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