Ein Bahn Strasse

Ein Bahn Strasse

You call shortly after your son is born,
Except for your young husband,
You are alone in a foreign country,
Will I come for a visit?

I ask my boss for two weeks off,
February is my birthday month,
He’s from Germany, he gives me a month
Tells me two weeks is not enough.

On the ride from Frankfurt to Weisbaden,
We have time to catch up,
To talk of the family, giggle,
And just enjoy being together again.

Reminiscent of our walks around Erie, PA
We walk the streets of Weisbaden,
The baby in a backpack, we experience the city,
Your son sleeps, his head nestled on your back.

It’s so different from home, yet so familiar.
Houses built against each other,
No room for backyards or swing sets,
The buildings old yet beautiful.

The air is cold and bitter,
We sip strong hot coffee,
Our cheeks are rosy from the cold,
We laugh and walk and talk.

Die baby’s Kalte one woman says,
I touch his cheek warm from sleep,
He’s bundled in the back pack,
The knit hat you made him on his head.

We sample the dark German chocolates,
Take turns carrying your son,
We walk until we’re exhausted,
“I think we’re lost,” you say.

“No, we can’t be,” I tell you,
“We’ve been on the same street.”
“What’s the name of it?” you ask
“Ein Bahn Strasse.” I reply.

You laugh, “We’re lost,” you say.
That means one way street!
We both laugh, ask directions,
Find our way back to your apartment.

The month passes too quickly,
I find myself at the airport,
Announcements come in a language,
I still don’t understand.

You stand there alone,
In a foreign country,
Surrounded by strangers,
Your son sleeps, his head nestled on your back.