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Abstract

n the clouds conceal the light with such steadfast fortification in the darkest hours. A smile that illuminates my world. You are precious to me.I worry about you. I can’t imagine a life without you. My instinct is to run to you. You are in a new city alone. The pessimism in my heart tells me you are afraid. A mother’s love can be foolish. You are not scared. You have new friends. You will have new loves.I can still see you flying from the nest. You are flying towards a new horizon. A world where possibility can be seen by the naked eye. Where the mind is nourished by all that surrounds it.You’ve entered a new realm. A new world. A world of progress. I thought about you last night. I want to spend December with you, in pubs, cafes, and Tivoli. I want the snow to fall. I want to be close to you.You tell me of autumn in Copenhagen. How the leaves fall differently there. How you eat seafood and drink wine by the water. How pubs, and their fires, warm you in the late eve. You tell me how happy you are.I would scale the Alps, Balkans and Rhineland to be with you. The coldest of win

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ds will blow me in. You bring me in from the cold. You warm me. You get me through each day. A foolish old mother.Take me to your favourite coffee house. Take me to your favourite pub. I want to hear the impassioned monologues fall from your tongue. Ditlevsen. Kirkegaard.Take me to Tivoli. I will shoot every target to win you a bear you will be far too abashed to carry with you all night. We’ll drink mulled wine with rum. We will laugh under the moon. I can be a mother to you again.I miss you all with every fibre of my heart. Every artery is filled with longing. Every wish I make revolves around you all. Your brother. Your sister. Your health. Your happiness.Let me hear Silent Night in Indre By. Let me be disappointed by the Little Mermaid. Let me see your happiness. Let me bathe in that knowing.So, my pride in you will remain off the shelf and in the basket of my heart.I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you once more. I’ll love you until the end of time.© D.O Volkova 2023. All Rights Reserved.</article></body>

Copenhagen, How I’d Love To See You

A letter to my daughter

My daughter and. I — Photo belongs to author.

They tell me to put my pride on the shelf. I can’t do that.

I am so full of pride. I am so proud of you.

You were born on a cold autumnal morning. As the leaves fell, you brought the truest peace. I knew I would write a thousand stories about you. There isn’t enough time to tell you how much I love you.

When you were a child, we would pace through the woods in winter. I can see your red scarf through the trees. Fiery leaves lay dead on the ground. The trees were waiting to get dressed again. I feel the warmth of your smile. Chestnuts. Holly. Pine cones.

I watched you swim under the blue raspberry, pink vanilla, and sugar-plum skies. I am nostalgic for your innocence. I am nostalgic for long-passed times. You are a flower that has bloomed bright.

I think of your smile when the clouds conceal the light with such steadfast fortification in the darkest hours. A smile that illuminates my world. You are precious to me.

I worry about you. I can’t imagine a life without you. My instinct is to run to you. You are in a new city alone. The pessimism in my heart tells me you are afraid. A mother’s love can be foolish. You are not scared. You have new friends. You will have new loves.

I can still see you flying from the nest. You are flying towards a new horizon. A world where possibility can be seen by the naked eye. Where the mind is nourished by all that surrounds it.

You’ve entered a new realm. A new world. A world of progress. I thought about you last night. I want to spend December with you, in pubs, cafes, and Tivoli. I want the snow to fall. I want to be close to you.

You tell me of autumn in Copenhagen. How the leaves fall differently there. How you eat seafood and drink wine by the water. How pubs, and their fires, warm you in the late eve. You tell me how happy you are.

I would scale the Alps, Balkans and Rhineland to be with you. The coldest of winds will blow me in. You bring me in from the cold. You warm me. You get me through each day. A foolish old mother.

Take me to your favourite coffee house. Take me to your favourite pub. I want to hear the impassioned monologues fall from your tongue. Ditlevsen. Kirkegaard.

Take me to Tivoli. I will shoot every target to win you a bear you will be far too abashed to carry with you all night. We’ll drink mulled wine with rum. We will laugh under the moon. I can be a mother to you again.

I miss you all with every fibre of my heart. Every artery is filled with longing. Every wish I make revolves around you all. Your brother. Your sister. Your health. Your happiness.

Let me hear Silent Night in Indre By. Let me be disappointed by the Little Mermaid. Let me see your happiness. Let me bathe in that knowing.

So, my pride in you will remain off the shelf and in the basket of my heart.

I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you once more. I’ll love you until the end of time.