He said…
I play with words, true.
But this is not my faculty to
sway lexis, sentences, and paragraphs
to a melodic refrain;
When my words shudder to
The sound of your voice,
seeking out all the nuances to your tone,
The density of your inflections
In the attempt to
Fashion a worthy tribute.
In your presence, as your purrs
Turn to roars; the words play me.
I am older, true.
In have breathed in much more
molecules and sauntered on extra paces
to close the gap to my mortality.
The rising of eyebrows in reply
To an unwelcome remark would send
Off a warning, not threatening, but
Rather evoking a hidden smile,
Like a private joke shared among friends.
With your naiveté, my defenses weaken.
With your complexity, my age condenses.
My memories drift, true.
But I remember fully your eyes
when we first met.
Shifting quickly between faces,
I could almost see your mind
Racing to lay the people behind the names
deciding who to welcome or discard.
I remember fully your birthday,
when you tucked an unruly hair from
behind your ear as you gazed down, smiling.
The golden light from the café bathed
your dusky skin into an almost bronzed tint.
I nursed my coffee for what seemed
An eternity but I knew it was just a flash.
My memories may drift,
But I take that moment with me to the grave.
You’ve grown, true.
No longer that wide-eyed girl who followed
Her daddy’s every move.
You braved bullets for an ideology,
Loved, scorned, and dared to love again.
Your smiles now hint at a secret.
A mystery that men seek to unravel.
I committed to memory your body’s every
curve, nook, recesses, and
each velvety corner.
More than any man, I know
What fills you; by the way you arched your back
in pleasure. Yet, I, too, am privy to that secret –
the mystery that you hint.
You’re a woman now,
And yet you’re still a girl, still
Looking to follow her daddy’s every move.
You’ve grown; and yet
Stayed similar.
Three years hence,
You’re no longer the same, as I.
This is not a love poem.
This is a tribute,
To the strong woman metamorphosed
From a timid and insecure child.
This is a work of gratitude
For the man that I’ve become –
Because of you.
This is not a love poem.
But your smell suddenly waft
Through the air just now, ever so subtly.
Don’t ask me how.
I’m drunk with your smell, even
If it’s just from my memory.