Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Father would stare from his corner
Of space in time from an old trunk
That smelt of iron in old moth-balls.
He looked like my own school self
A bit lost in space, in shirt-sleeves
Tucked to elbow, not much in eyes.
He would stay there stuck in a corner
With no knowledge that I was coming
With a future that meant his going.
There was space only for one of us.
He stays wedged between old heads
Still staring at old space unremittingly.
Posted at 05:05 pm by adukuri