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Poem

Infants can vaguely
remember how often they were
attentively cared for...
kissed and touched by their mothers:
cuddling them in those 
protective and undetached arms,
claiming their babies to be the cutest ones!
I do reacall how mother fed me;
and made sure I was completely full,
until I burped and my tiny eyes began to roll...



Around seven a.m. I was awaken by the choir, 
when the massive medieval organ,
over the church's altar, began to play;
she took me out to the sunny veranda,
to let me hear its heavenly sound!
And it exquisitely played the" Ave Maria! "...
while all the nuns from the monastery,
across the stone-paved street, headed,
towards their place of meditation and prayer;
ever since their devotion became mine...



Time, you age our bodies with worries and diseases,
but only memories are timeless and unerasable;
childhood is the slowest phase of our fleeing life,
and that event can influence our well-being:
to make us happy or sad, lovable and kind...
bitter and unmindful, or resentful and hateful!
However positively or negatively, these feelings are fed to the heart; 
we act on them accordingly without the tendency to forget that:  
we were once loved so sweetly and so endessly by a mother, with a pious face,
who desired their children to be the mirror of herself...
when her cutes ones would become caring husbands and loving wives,
to carry on this honorable tradition for the survival of the Human Race... 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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