As
a naughty Karagiozis
he
danced around customers
his
wrinkled face
always
in a fat grin
A
meatball here, a tasty fish there
juggling
with full plates
sometimes
a bow, sometimes a greet
never
a complaint crossing his lips
Languorous
evenings full with traditional sounds
colorful
puppets endless gossiping
about
the Greek world
with
a laugh and a tear
Then
his laughing eyes
would
light up with pleasure
just
like when fingers bowed
the
smooth strings of a bouzouki
And
when the summer evening progressed
empty
bottles starting to make music
feet
floated off the floor
father,
daughter, father, son
Dearly
celebrating Greek life
nights
full of swirling people
and
he, in the middle of the dance floor
of
his restaurant full of flowers
Sometimes
waving with his rifle
towards
tables full of clients
a
sudden shot in the blue air
and
gone were the fish-eating wasps
His
rich life going towards twilight
in
his little old white car
embracing
the sunset
to
fish in Eftalou
To
the gardens or the sea
Georgina
always at his side
driving
and enjoying
the
empty winter evenings
O,
Perikles, dancing myth of Molyvos
sleep
took your voice
music,
dance and life
far
beyond the evening red
In
heaven you can angle
as
long as you want
while
we here
will
miss you so much
(with
thanks to Mary Staples)
©
Smitaki 2017
