I would rather walk with a friend in the dark,
Than an an alone at the night.
Or with an enermy, at daylight.
As I lay under this endless sky,
Watching it turn dark, and bright.
And dark again.
With full, golden light.
Like the one I see only in your eyes.
A friend in need is a friend, indeed.
Just then,
A memory flooded in.
The memory of us, playing together.
We were perfect.
Singing and humming melodious songs in our dialect.
Doing things we enjoyed, in duet.
Making drawings on sand,
With her fingers, stuck in the soil in time of August's Hervest.
We were best friends,
We lived and loved.
One soul in two bodies,
We held same smile patterns on our lips.
Truly, we never know the value of a moment.
Until becomes a momory, it's too late.
Thinking of you today, Bernadette.
Reminds me of the nights we've spent,
Under the summer sunset.
We followed the same mindset,
Until death led to our bisect.
But today...now.
What reminds me of you is how we used to connect.
Day after day,
We would joke at each other.
Season after season.
Now, I cherish those even moments, more.
It was indeed, pluperfect.
Today,
I stand by your grave,
Praying and paying you, respect.
Flourishing you with white petals,
From my heart-like pocket.
Even though,
Sometimes, we still connect.
Somehow.
I stand with memories of you, today.
Listening to the buzz and purr of Summer songs, dying.
Dream speech.
Writing to the fwoosh, and swish, and swoosh of winter poems,
Raising white and long.
Dancing black and white,
Like life and death.
In the same world.
© Madinah_Writes
01.08.2021
YOU ARE READING
Fragrance From A Black Flower
Poetry#1 in blackpoets This collection of poems is intended to give some account of the conditions in which African oral poets produce their works, and the audiences to which they address themselves. However, even the most summary account of this topic is...
