As one get older, the mind harks back to the past
to find what has been overlooked and the field of
memories is not bare, in glints of forgotten items
some of them are not flattering for my self-esteem.
There was this problem of taking umbrage for
the slightest offence, or rather what my young self
saw as slight against me.
There was this rage against people, who criticized
me, I was full of what I today call poor man's pride.
When some kind folks gave my mother a used coat,
I threw the damn coat out of the window, never should we
take charity; I was fifteen years at the time; mother
needed that coat, she jumped out of the window too
– it was a year with much snow - she landed softly,
grabbed the coat and went to bed with it.
Oh, field of memories let me forget the past, if I can't
forgive myself, if you want to give me a winter coat
I will accept, it gets cold in Algarve wintertime.
