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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521510" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Memorial</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summer </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He worked nights, leaving as we climbed<br>the tall narrow staircase to our shared room, <br>up into the summer heat, the steel fan <br>in the hallway window <br>pulling cool, leafy breezes <br>from our waving trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We heard the kitchen screen-door <br>slap shut, the Pontiac roaring to life, <br>and watched as slowly he backed down <br>the dark driveway, and was gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And gladly we glided through our misty dreams, <br>flying over tree-tops, baseball games <br>and cool swimming pools, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">when finally the robin’s enthusiasm <br>and the fresh morning sun <br>flashing through green leaves <br>woke us as we heard the car stop<br>and Dad call cheerfully, “I’m home! ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The air already scented with bacon and coffee, <br>we flew down the groaning stairs, <br>two steps at a bound, <br>and eagerly started another golden <br>summer’s day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Winter</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One winter day I did something wrong, and<br>he got angry and drew his worn leather belt<br>from the loops of his grey, stained work trousers<br>To teach me a lesson.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Terrified, I ran upstairs to the big closet<br>and trembled behind coats and sweaters, <br>as heavily he came up the steps, <br>righteous anger ringing in his voice, <br>tears flowing down my cheeks; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">when my big brother, teenage and strong, <br>called defiance to him and drew him down<br>into the back yard to fight him <br>and save me, angered by his<br>memory of so many other beatings, <br>determined to stop it now! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But facing his own father<br>he could not fight back, and<br>weeping, I watched my dad <br>pummel my brother’s defenseless face, <br>far worse than any beating<br>I would have gotten.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From kitchen window, <br>I screamed to them both<br>to stop! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That was when my father saw, <br>in the kitchen window’s glare<br>his own father’s angry eyes, <br>and felt his father’s fists<br>landing hard on his own face, <br>and he stopped and<br>embraced my brother.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spring</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seven years after my father died<br>my first child, my son, was born in spring, <br>and in the gleaming, sterile room<br>I first held him in my arms<br>as, with his impossibly wide, blue eyes<br>he calmy gazed right into my raw soul, <br>and I felt in a sudden rush of warmth, <br>a timeless love<br>and at last discovered <br>the reason for my life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was then<br>I understood my father.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In my son’s face I saw my own<br>and felt my father’s eyes gazing <br>in warm wonder on me<br>and I glowed with <br>unconditional love for my son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Steven+Federle">Steven Federle</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=521510" data-title="Memorial de Steven Federle" data-description="Summer 

He worked nights, leaving as we climbed
the tall narrow staircase to our shared room, 
up into the summer heat, the steel fan 
in the hallway window 
pulling cool, leafy breezes 
from our waving trees.

We heard the kitchen screen-door 
s..."></div>
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