White ceilings, blue walls glancing back at me , is all that comes to mind when I think of the time we first met. Days have gone by since we last spoke and countless hours, elusive as I sat pining for you. Its been six years, too long a time to...
White ceilings, blue walls glancing back at me , is all that comes to mind when I think of the time we first met. Days have gone by since we last spoke and countless hours, elusive as I sat pining for you. Its been six years, too long a time to love, quite abrupt to mourn the hatchets we refused to bury. Could things have been different had I fought the hard battle many dared not to, should I have neglected logic and follow the lies my heart told me. Should I have been a better man and changed when you told me to?.
Now memories of life before you are void and null, as empty as my soul you’ve ripped. The time we spent, blurry even when am at peace like times as this. I have now just a fragment of our tumultuous tale we could love. THE DAY WE MET.
You were serving at the local’s spot, enticing all with tales of your many travels and adventures, each with an intricate detail of the people’s history, beliefs and surmountable problems they faced. You spoke like you knew the tale we all wanted to hear, telling us piece by piece as we could not help but watched in awe at the marvel, you were.
They were many stories then about you, some said you were shy as a child afraid to suckle your mother’s breast as a child, the pale people spoke as if they knew claiming that you were young and had a long way to go.
But somewhere in your eyes I saw the truth, you were born to be, to be speak all that is and tell as it is. I heard and I fell, I read and I wept. You knew it all, So cheers to our six years together, for no matter how tipsy this bottle of Hennessey has made me. I know the truth, I will always love you, I will always love African literature.