Son



It’s not the time of the day.
Nor the words in your say.
And it’s certainly not the infantile defiance in your nay.


It’s the crystalline sparkle of trust in your eyes.
The sweetness in the booming smile you give when you hand me your fries.
Not to mention what your tiny mellifluous voice does when it says “daddy” or “Ade”; it gives my soul wings, melts my heart, and leaves my head swooning in warm cheers like a beloved superfly.


I’m in awe of your learning strides.
The inquisitiveness you deploy, the kindness you evince, and the thoughtfulness you externalize are beyond my prognosis by miles.
With you, the walls around my heart evaporates each time; you know just where to look and I can’t even deny.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Time

Time, like a fugitive, flees from everyone and everything; from us all. Or maybe the evasive soul has got one heck of a dream and supersonic jets with which to chase it. How does it never stay in the same place twice? Not even for a second! Maybe time is human. Soul so fleeting like a perfidiously fickle mood. Think of mirage, façade, or shadows, then time would never be far away. You remember when you thought you had him where you wanted? When time seemed so fond of you? When he gave you so much attention that you wondered what to do with the lengthy hours that boredom and Morpheus took delight in purloining? And how you thought to learn a skill to amuse him, or a trade to impress him? He was always there, all around you as a paramour. He was such a stayer that he emptied his soul into your palms. He gave you his life. Then died. Maybe. But what have you done with it? Have you ever waited on time to keep its promise on boiling your rice, healing your wou...
Read more

Cold Water

Cold Water Her eyes kept expanding in their sockets. The muscles at her jaw swelled like the hunch of a well-fed cow as she clenched her molars and premolars.  She tried so hard to stop the warm brine but her lachrymal glands, apparently, did not get the memo.  In a spilt of a second, her cheek and mascara, all of it, would be washed clean, like the salty waves over the beach sand Like two young paramours holding hands, her tears would connive with the mucous from her nostrils at the philtrum, traversing her lips before finally jumping off the jaw cliff.  It would not be a good sight at all. On other days, the milky alliance between tears and mucous would make me puke.  Her own, although equally sordid, only inspired pity.  I had never seen someone with so much tears.  Tears, with a will like the erosion on the sub-Saharan soil, mapped and dug out every dirt on the physiological contours of her face.  Astonishingly, her vocal cor...
Read more

Darkness

And it crept in ; blind folding me and everyone else. Now the huge colourful torch will bore a hole through it's foggy and abysmal nature ; Lightening my footpath and enlivening my soul upon gaze. ----------- Shhhhh! a moment of silence ; the other ; of guard. What a complicated nature you've been bestowed with. It behooves me to demand: shall I say he or she ... ? She's so calm that you can hear the soothing melody of the trees and partner: breeze. ----------- He's so fierce that your heart is encircled in perpetual terror just for setting your eyes upon him... Huhnh... A sigh in confusion and resignation!
Read more