Cassils Hotel: the pilot and the jazz singer (A Dream, March 2017)

I arrived at the Cassils Hotel

The manager hugged me tight

And poured some whiskey to celebrate that I'd survived

The music was playing loud and beautifully

The place was full of gentlemen

and their wives

I entered the Bar

and stood beside the curtains, closed my eyes

and heard her sweet voice again in a long time

I then went upstairs

And I sat at our table

The music stopped

Cause she knew I was waiting her

She came after me, sat on the opossite side, in silence

looking down at her toes, I couldn't see her face

And without a word she gave me a newspaper clipping

And started singing softly, tears falling on the table cloth

While I read the note about that night seven years ago:

BILLIONS LOST AS STOCKS CRASH

"I thought God would be with me..."

PRICES ARE SET TO DOUBLE

"...When you decided to go..."

CRASH ON A HIGHWAY LEFT FOUR PEOPLE KILLED

"...But I felt lonely so lonely..."

IN CASSILS HOTEL SEVERAL PILOTS WERE RECRUITED FOR WAR

"...Not even god could ever know..."

But I was just daydreaming

wishing her to care and run for me

as if the cheerful youth could come back to us when we meet

But the truth was we swallowed the sour in small sips

Life was a burden to be carried

Childish dreams no longer shine after a war

It vanishes, leaving a simple breath of relief in return

The piano and bass kept playing downstairs

It was almost unreal

My woman's voice that I swore would make me kill

Since that day I left her, pregnant, hearts like mild steel

Now that I've returned to this Hotel, I felt suddently... naive

She had sang for the last seven years, not to me

But to carry and feed our son

Because that's what women have to do afterall

keeping her pain under the pillow we once shared

Unsuspecting lovers

7 years made me a stranger to her, and she, no less stranger to me

...Even though I had her photograph in my army chain

the only valuable thing I carried with me in my warplane

...Even though she kept my shirts washed and ironed

during those endless years, no letter naming her "wife" or "widow"

I, tormentendly split between "spouse" and "hero"

She still loves the memory of me, but

Could she recognize the man that used to wear shirts - in this uniform?

I know her still photograph kept me warmed during the cold night storms

But what about now?