Friday, June 25, 2010


When a man loves A Women – World War II

It all began one late afternoon
in October when my father
handed me a stack of letters,
“For the stamps” he said. Well,
I knew different when I reached
out and touched the letters.

Father continued to point toward
the stamps, repeating how valuable
they were.
I was never a stamp collector,
but I am a writer.

Like most evenings, I retired early,
turned on the television, switched the
bedside lamp on and pretended to
listen to the program which is a
normal part of falling asleep.

I stacked the letters inside my dresser
near the bed, and this would be the first time
I learned the inside workings of my
mother and father.

My heart began to beat faster, recognizing
old familiar feelings – sayings I heard
as a child – now – filled with anticipation.

A smile covered my face,
no one would see it, but I knew it,
and I even heard myself giggle.

Between letters I repositioned myself
on the bed, my legs moving nervously about
as I lived their world, felt their emotions,
love, desperation, and dreams.

Nothing could be better,
nothing could compare to this night.
My mother said, “One day we may have
a little girl, and when she’s grown she
may want to read all we have said.”

Mother died young, but I recall
all her words, and now in black
and white.

Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

this is your friend, Candace Sturtevant from facebook. I think I have a google account, but not sure. It is amazing you found a publisher on twitter. I love your poems and I am glad to have found them.