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Exile Exile
by Nikos Laios
2021-04-14 08:22:31
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I remember our last dance
Before I left for foreign shores,
The way you brushed my cheek
With your hand and how I
Held you gently in my arms.

earth_shadow_400I remember the aroma
Of your bergamot perfume
And your silk dress,
The taste of your red lips,
I remember the sound
Of the band playing
Old European waltzes
Late into the night
And the dance floor brimming,
I remember the nut-seller outside
Under a yellow streetlamp
And the moonlight playing
On the bay.

I remember the small things,
Backgammon with the lads
At our local cafe at Piraeus Bay
On Sundays to the sounds
Of pealing church bells
And the wailing voices of
Local fishmongers,
And our walks on the promenade,
Picnics on the manicured green lawns
at Zappeion Garden under the shadow
Of grand neo-classical buildings with
The gang, and Greek love
Songs crackling from the radio.

I remember the touch of
My mother's gnarled hand
And the aroma of her spinach pie
Filling her kitchen,
I remember our village nestled
High in the bristling mountains
And the golden-tipped eagles
That soared overhead ,
And how as children
Our imaginations
Would soar with
The eagles.

I remember it all,
And how bitter-sweet it is
Now that I've exiled myself
On cold foreign shores,
I remember how I
Left it all behind for
My wretched belly
Empty and poor;
Poverty, I detest you!
You have exiled
So many sons
Of Greece.

I miss it all
And I now regret
In my middle years
My choice
To leave,
I thought I had no
But I was foolish
And young then
And wisdom
Had not yet
Found me;
Is a terrible

Most of all,
I remember you
And our last dance,
Your gentle touch
And your bergamot
Perfume, and all
Of these memories linger
And mingle with
The bitter cold taste
Of my exile
On foreign


With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios


Check Nikos Laios' EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!


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