Waiting…
Crouched on this couch
Flipping through the pages
The lines blurred
I can only see your smiles
…I am still waiting
Flicking through the channels
The pixels blurred
I can only see your shadows
…I am still waiting
Waiting for that guttural voice
Calling my name again
Waiting for those strong fingers
Ruffling my hairs
Waiting to be aroused
By the aroma of suya in the dead of the night
Waiting, just waiting
To be called a son again!
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Beautifully written but sad.
Thanks, enjoyed ur note to Dad too…but, internet connection problems hasn’t allowed me to leave a comment.
Wow, beautiful poem, Charles. I agree with Boomie about the sad aspect, though. But the words have a haunting feel to them, as if the writer will never get what he is waiting for. Good shot!
He did and quite severally…I just captured the period of waiting for Father’s return from work daily during growing up. Those were my most cherished memories. Thank for sharing with me!
Aww. This is sad.