Any sunny lone day,
found him on the reclining chair
beneath the tree.
Dark shades on his face,
Cool smile on his lips
Little waves of colour
rough, smooth and raw
Happy toothless jaw
Crinkled like the SUN.
The afternoon wind shoots
We come, a burst of rush,
with the sounds of fruit
Little udara orbs,
Around him they fall
One small one here
A little dear
Little fingers picking,
What err hits the DUST.
As the world rushes bye
Squabbles appear
Who owns which near,
Who got what first?
He would smile
When we ask
De’ is it mine?
And advise with a walking stick
When we fight in the GRIME.
Now, with age’s subtle arms
and an educated time
I return to our little town
With honour’s bow
His chair remains where it was
but by a stump
now bathed in sun,
In dust,
In grime.
*Udara – An Igbo word for African Star Apple fruit
*De’ – Old man

Caleb #Carlflame