I recall with nostalgia
the village of my grandparents
as simple and straightforward
a tiny village
hidden among the hills and valleys
there for the bands Mirandela.
The houses were made of stone
Flowers adorned the windows
and balconies were made of wood.
I miss those holidays
I and my brothers spent
the house of my paternal grandparents.
It was there that I met
the field and its wonders
because I always lived in the city.
There everything was different
than I was accustomed
there in that beautiful village
there was no electricity or water in the pipes
every day I and my brothers
were going to seek the source
pure water to drink.
It was all an adventure
We ran, we jumped and played
the meadows, hills and valleys
there were fields full of watermelons
grape vines with golden
In the vegetable garden planted by my grandfather
it was all natural and healthy
because everything was cultivated with wisdom and love.
Television? there was no
in my grandmother's house there was no light
We lit the night chain
and heard the stories my grandfather told
lying in a patchwork
on wooden porch
because the heat was so
that we could not sleep
Then we looked at the starry sky
dreaming of Prince Charming
grandmother to send us to bed.
There! I miss those holidays
that remained in my memory
that are part of my story
time that has passed ...
(Author Lila)
(This paper is dedicated to my grandparents
who have gone before, but I remember
with loving care)
GROUP MODERATORS:NILGUN & AYLAK
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MOST OF US IN THE GROUP ONLY KNOW ENGLISH.
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