Triptych

When my mother She who is not All at once
Was a young girl Who she was I could see
Before the War Waits to be My mother
Reading sad books Yet she is In eternity
By the river  Already I told her
Sometimes, she  Mother  She always
Looked up, wisely  Whose child  Would be
But did not dream  Though not yet  The one
The day I would  Could not be  Whose son
Be born to her An other  You see