Is it an illusion
that the past lurks in the twilight
and the future – in the light,
just because the day is a smile?

My threshold at night
is weighed down by memories
the past becomes a teacher.
And the longing for flight
dances with the morning
in front of my window…

The past – I turn into forgiveness.
The present – into a path of geraniums!
The future shines now
in the gaze of a dog,
in the pain of forced separation,
in my children – one of whom sings of the twilight,
and the other cries for the light…

Isn’t it an illusion,
to think
that our children will continue us?