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!

5 thoughts on “Waiting”

  1. 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!

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