15 August 2021

A poem for someone that I used know

Her braids veil our faces,
Not even the light might peek
Into the inevitable touch of lips.

There is no seeing in this moment,
Only touching, tasting and listening
To the heart’s drumming.

These moments are like the Okavango Delta,
Because this river will not reach the sea,
Instead it shall congregate in hopes and dreams.

If only God’s timing could take our side,
Then play against us this frustration, 
The providence of what is to come.

I shall depart from this city in a fortnight, 
Yet each night she visits,
Helping me prepare for this departure. 

Does it not pain her? Probably so,
But more painful is simply letting go. 
Even if my body relocates, 

My heart remains with her. 

It was stolen in a touch of lips,
Under the veil of her braids,saying 
Remember me.