Clinging to Your Memories
I sit all
alone in the living room
staring at your photo.
From the window I see the swing,
where we spent many evenings
hanging in emptiness.
I remember the day you were born.
When I held you in my arms for the first time,
I began believing in miracles.
The house no longer echoes your little feet
in flight. Like frost, I realize painfully
silence carries a sharp bite.
Today you would have been five.
I'll go to the square to feed the pigeons,
which you enjoyed.