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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473724" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Kimono</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473724" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The Kimono </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=473724" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I was joining a ship in another town; mother followed me the railway station, <br>which was not far as we lived nearby? From the train I looked down at her and <br>saw what I had never seen, a woman with unkempt hair, in an old overcoat <br>with missing buttons and shoes that needed heeling. There were many other <br>people on the platform, but she stood out looking like a bag woman. <br>I felt ashamed and guilty for feeling embarrassed. When returning I will have <br> money to buy her a new coat, shoes and send her to a hairdresser, I thought. <br>The train moved forward and I waved as long as I could see her. <br>A year later my ship had just left Tokyo, bound for the Panama canal, when <br>the radio operator came into the galley with a cable, I could see in his face he <br>had no glad tiding. I sat in my cabin grieving, took out the kimono I had bought <br>her it was made of silk and was as soft as a mother’s embrace; and I cried.<br>A knock on my door it was the captain who said: “No time for tears son, crew <br>needs to be fed and you are the cook.“ That night and many nights thereafter <br>I was lulled asleep by the ship’s steady heartbeat.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a></strong></div>