She’s Arab-Canadian.
He’s Romanian-American.
It’s English when they speak of love.
It’s French when they have to cuss.
At work, it’s Romanian and Russian
While the children learn Russian from the driver
And Romanian from their sweet nanny dear,
Too young to complain about anything,
About all the languages they were immersed in.
When their romance has fizzled out,
Their children have moved about,
Continents they have to cross
For that sheer blissful comfort
With grandchildren on their laps.
As to which language to use with young minds,
Speaking other tongues, they just smile.
For when neuroplasticity has come and gone,
And for new neural connections, there’s no time
The language of choice is the unspoken one.
MLJ/07/01/2023/StoriesFromAroundTheWorld
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