- Books, Literature, and Writing
The fragrance of the wet mud in the rains,
They call it petrichor nowadays,
Brings memories with it from the days,
I would leave everything to meet you and find new ways,
To prolong the meeting and never have to waver my gaze.
The song I can no longer listen to,
For as they talk about the mist and the dew,
Reminds me of the time with you when the wind blew,
And brought with it a shower of flowers of many hues.
The sun as it sets in the horizon beyond,
The moon as it takes its guard till the dawn,
Reminds me of the nights I tossed and turned,
Wondering if everything was alright between us, very concerned.
The anxiety that crept in making me doubt,
The lamp of hope that I refused to burn out,
Makes me remember how naïve I was,
To believe every lie you fed me, without a clause.
How you fixed your eyes to mine with an unwavering gaze,
And lied to me again and again, to my face,
Makes me thankful for the people who stood by me,
As I cried and wept and struggled to break free.
As I remember the restless days and the sleepless nights,
I want to send a silent prayer up tonight,
That you go through every bit of heartache and pain that I did,
That you give your heart to someone and they break it without blinking an eyelid.
First love is not the first person you give your heart to,
But the first one who breaks it,
I don’t want to remember, but you are very hard to forget,
One day the scores shall be settled – the interest and the debt.
© 2017 Kulsum Afia