Poland

Oh in the nineteen thirties
Son born to a Brooklyn ghetto
And when his people saw him
Ohh they could sense his yearning and

There in his eyes
Something was speaking gently
There in his eyes
One lived to come and greet me

Father oh father is working
Soup pot is waiting
Time that was lost and books that were kept
Mother of mother is waiting

There in her eyes
Grayness of morning captured
There where she lies
Black and white photos keep her

Oh at the end of the hallway
A closet and a life that was stolen
The mandolin and pocket book jewelry
Tokens of a life left in Poland

There in her eyes
Something was speaking gently
City street lights
Son born, immigrant lady

There is a pony in Brooklyn
A boy and a pony in Brooklyn
There is an immigrant lady
Wonder what she's doing lately

I was thinkin' about my life
Thinkin' 'bout where I've come
All the things he might have said
All the things he might have done
I was lying on the floor
There is what my mind's eye said
What an easy life you've had
What a simple live you've led

 

Reid Genauer