Oma

To visit you was our treat,
my older brother loved you.
Though from the moment we did meet
you thought I wasn't up to
the standards of a first-born son
whose name was true tradition.
Yet you allowed us to have fun
and Opa took us fishing.

Each afternoon, cocoa and cake:
At three o'clock precisely.
You'd built from scratch this special bake,
'twas tasty, went down nicely.

I still recall your hairy hand
that held the kitchen knife.
Two slices cut, as per demand:
Our faces grew alive.

Those were the days and they did end
but what I failed to see,
is why my brother's piece of cake
was always bigger
-always BIGGER-
than was the one for me.

by Herbert Nehrlich

Comments (3)

Oma/Opa taught me what love is NOT. SHE showed me what is.
Oma? Opa? Bigger piece of cake? Who blew out your candle? Come back...look into the light. Where is the love?
Now I hear the boy and the man