One sunny morning, I opened my eyes,
But something was off—it was quite a surprise.
My room was gone, replaced by stone walls,
And outside I heard merchants shouting their calls.
I ran to the mirror—what did I see?
Same old me… but in clothes from history.
Then someone knocked—it gave me a fright!
A boy said, “Are you ready?” with eyes so bright.
He looked familiar, sharp and strong,
Like he knew what was right and hated what’s wrong.
“My name is Mustafa,” he said with a grin,
And suddenly, I felt the day would begin.
We walked through the streets of old Selanik town,
He waved at folks as we wandered around.
He spoke of books, of battles, of peace,
Of hoping one day all wars would cease.
At school, he sat straight, so focused and calm,
While I tried to keep up and stay in the palm.
He answered each question, his hand always high,
And whispered to me, “It’s okay to try.”
At break, we played with a group of young boys,
Making swords from sticks and laughing with joy.
But even in games, he played with heart,
Thinking deeply, like he had a part
In something much bigger—something ahead—
He even said once, “One day, I’ll lead instead.”
We had lunch on the dock, eating some bread,
And I asked what went on inside his head.
He said, “I dream of a country that’s free,
Where people can learn and just be who they be.”
That hit me hard. I didn’t know why,
But I looked at him like he could fly.
He was just a kid, but something felt grand—
Like he already knew how to understand
What others would miss, what others would fear,
He looked at the future and held it near.
As the sun went down, he turned to me slow,
“It’s time to go home. Tomorrow, I grow.”
Then—blink—I was back in my bed,
His voice and his dreams still stuck in my head.
Now I walk through life with a brand-new view,
Because of one day that felt so true.
A day with young Atatürk, my friend,
Whose dreams and courage will never end.