on their final
European excursion,
my practical mother
bought me a simple
souvenir from some
quaint tourist shop in
Prague, a capital city,
where she and her
friends shopped
while the husbands
snapped photos –
everyone trying to
capture a memory.
every time i hold
these nesting dolls
i see her warm smile,
accept her gift again
(small enough to fit
my mind’s suitcase)
wondering how she
knew that her first
great-grandchild
(a boy she’d never
meet on this earth)
would ask me with
big shining eyes,
“please play?”
with the painted
miniatures of
smooth wooden
generations each
carrying the next,
blooming with bright
promise of precious
new arrival.
perhaps you consider
it all rather kitschy
but i cannot help but
exclaim over the wee
baby one with kisses.
(These “matryoshka” nesting dolls are a Russian tradition, often made in China and sold as souvenirs in the Czech Republic!)
Written in response to Mary’s prompt, “looking for treasure”, at d’VersePoets.
a poem in my pocket 