Days, Weeks, Months
Philip Buttafuoco
It was the days of the immigrants, 1962.
Mamma and oldest sister boarded the American Export Lines.
Sailed to the land of opportunity.
Left us home lonely and worried.
A little boy, I was never far from the mother of love.
Tears on my face, short curly hair, boney legs, broad shoulders.
Very shy.
Wanting to be near the mother of love.
Days passed, weeks passed, months passed.
Oldest brother and youngest sister boarded TWA.
Flew to the land of opportunity.
Left us home lonely and worried.
Tensions rose, feelings got stronger.
My mind demanded a sight of my loved ones.
Letters came and letters were sent
Daily,
But the vision I craved,
I only saw on glossy black and white.
The land of opportunity.
The land of the rich and the free.
The land you could pick money from a tree.
Time was near, but my mind was far
Constantly thinking about mother of love.
Days passed, weeks passed, months passed.
Papa, sister, brother and I
Flew through the heavens with TWA
And walked through the long tunnel
Of the land of opportunity.
On that crisp December night
A joyous smile filled with love
Tremored my heart and warmed my blood.
Mother of love took me in her arms and raised my spirit
High above the clouds,
Above the worries,
Above the loneliness,
Above life itself.
Tears were many, smiles were true
Love kept us far and near, but most of all
Love kept us united.
Mamma and oldest sister boarded the American Export Lines.
Sailed to the land of opportunity.
Left us home lonely and worried.
A little boy, I was never far from the mother of love.
Tears on my face, short curly hair, boney legs, broad shoulders.
Very shy.
Wanting to be near the mother of love.
Days passed, weeks passed, months passed.
Oldest brother and youngest sister boarded TWA.
Flew to the land of opportunity.
Left us home lonely and worried.
Tensions rose, feelings got stronger.
My mind demanded a sight of my loved ones.
Letters came and letters were sent
Daily,
But the vision I craved,
I only saw on glossy black and white.
The land of opportunity.
The land of the rich and the free.
The land you could pick money from a tree.
Time was near, but my mind was far
Constantly thinking about mother of love.
Days passed, weeks passed, months passed.
Papa, sister, brother and I
Flew through the heavens with TWA
And walked through the long tunnel
Of the land of opportunity.
On that crisp December night
A joyous smile filled with love
Tremored my heart and warmed my blood.
Mother of love took me in her arms and raised my spirit
High above the clouds,
Above the worries,
Above the loneliness,
Above life itself.
Tears were many, smiles were true
Love kept us far and near, but most of all
Love kept us united.
Phil Buttafuoco immigrated to America from Sicily. He served this country honorably in the US Air Force. Phil’s poem Asylum was published in Bards Long Island Haunts anthology. Phil published a children’s picture book, Andre Learning Hair Styling, which was chosen as a finalist in the 2023 Best Book Awards. His poem Despair was published in Writing Outside the Lines anthology. His poem Refresh of Sanity has been accepted by Bards Annual 2024 anthology.
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