My thoughts sit alone upon a stile
in blaze and breeze, in sober and sorrow
vanishing moment by moment, fading
until to my gaze, you were a spot;
unintended you stole the smile I had long
hid inside – the one I was saving for you.
Am in reminiscent of our spent days –
a gift of a lifetime I now cherish.
As frowns of Farewell makes weak fond smiles
of welcome that made you and me twin
sadder I grew to Departure, my aching sight
an itch that will, in our next meet find its cure.
No more will I many a glimpse of your clime and clan,
goodly sight o’ your low hills and plains gaze
nor fruits of fragrance blushing on
your every tree my taste’s famish fill;
by chance, I’ve come to adore you
amongst your ancient ornaments.
A few short months we’ve come to dwell,
in their sane hours,
the kindness of your people
I’ve come to know and owe gratitude
still, Goodbye’s waving hands isn’t enough,
words had no wisdom, when we bid, “Bye!”
As our days, are done I passing from Youth to Old
barely knowing life’s many parodies or reasons,
in your care many thoughts conceived
and many befuddled encounters buried.
I leave now, praying for Chance to lead us with fortune
through life’s thousand and one falls until we meet again.
Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords| 2004
This poem was written 15 years ago at Afuze, Edo State Nigerian during my National Youth Service assignment. Though life has fated that since then our paths have never crossed again, this is my way of saying THANK YOU for keeping me safe during my one year stay.
Lad! Remember that no man ought to forgeta child’s tender youth is like tempering of waxapt to receive form – discipline before affectionmix threats with a fair look, manner with wit. A potter fashions his lay when it’s softa sparrow taught to come when younghot iron by a hammer’s stroke begets formand keeps it forever […]
4 It was the stuff of a satire, were it not painfully true. Nnenne sat silently on a black-spotted Ankara patterned sofa surrounded by chattering friends and coworkers. She and a handful of friends at Lolo’s urging – her childhood friend and workmate, had gathered at her residence to celebrate a hard-fought promotion greeted with […]
© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020
3 Mid-age has come; almost lost is the brags and security that goes with the beauty of youth. Will the colors of a peahen be for its survival or pleasantries? Nnenne dared for answers.A non-conformist – Nnenne nurtured her confidence in the free-to-be-you household she grew up in with her mom – a teacher by […]