Then some days the morning wouldn’t rise – It would plead, ‘two more hours please’ as it snoozes the east-waking-alarm again, muttering some unintelligible excuse too.Thankfully it’s winter, so the dawn can stay in bed until just before lucky hour seven. Today it would smile brightly, almost painfully like you always do when your face sheds light.
With just enough warmth in the room to induce a hazy, drowsy state to my always sober self,Blinds closed, but some fierce rays still pierce through, like moonlit thoughts of you illuminating onto my darkness.
Even after you said I was too much, an overwhelming experience that was a lot to ‘take in’. No Nivea to shield me against the harsh elements of your words. I was humbled like the soil. The sails of my pride torn by the tearing winds of your tone. And it did not help that the seas weren’t calm, My Peter-feet cold to walk on. But the never changing grandma-soup warmth in your voice sings melodies of Sotho blankets enveloping me. The fulfilling feeling of being empty, knowing I poured the last of my soul into your spirit, for our love’s sake. We believed in a love that almost lost all hope. I still gaze upon your pictures, the point of focus usually the place where your lips meet, A heart-like shape forms between them at the middle and I still blow kisses to this gap. If the sun were you, every born son would turn towards every girl child’s shimmering glamour With much honour, Always to be met eye-level, in the light of an all-round equal and remaining so to its glistening end, such is life.
~by New-Black-SoUl #NBS.
(C)2016. Phila Dyasi. NuBlaccSoUl™. Intellectual property. All rights reserved. Please quote poem with author name and date if sharing to external sites.