Saturday, May 9, 2015


We have met a long time ago
with the storks, you came
bundled with laughter
brushed with a joker's hat

sometimes I don't understand half of what you refer to,
intense movements on the green grass in the summer
and the swish of names taller than me
you lovingly tease, these small bones

there are days when I am filled with pepper
chili, hot and fire-filled
to the core, I will push your strings
perhaps plan to overtake the city
you have virtually built out of sweat and tears

but I won't, instead I will be
the soft board that navigates the way
you talk to me of chalky beings
made up of our creation, play and hide

don't wake me up on the weekends unless you
seek my ribbons, the one you used to steal
in childhood, to make ropes to climb the tree
take the ribbons from the second hand-side drawer,
 tie the new ends now

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