Me In the Old Album, Part 2: Her

I see pictures of her but I don’t look,
I stare right into her eyes and
see the moonlight of good days shining
invitingly and nagging me to rekindle
something. Something that back in the day,
I did not have words for. Just emotions;
or may be one of those things whose name
is overused. Something right there. I can feel.

I was once a little being. Innocent and novice
in knowing how to think or what to think.
She was just part of me, I could not tell;
her face meant the world to me and my dreams
either started or ended with her angel face.
Perhaps I did not have any emotions,
it could have been a wave sweeping me aside
tearing and turning me inside out.

I was wallowing in unknown territories but
all I could muster was the courage to give a
thumbs up. I said nothing.
But I look at these pictures and feel what she
meant to me in the good old days. A comfort
deep inside pushes me back to my seat,
I feel a completeness, a happiness, an excitement
that speaks a million more words now than then.

From these pictures it seems
I have never paid much attention to the
tricks of the game. The fancy hair, the walking,
the unnecessarily big words in conversations,
the expensive, expansive and unfathomable fashion -
something that must have dug the grave
where I was to lay sadly ever after.
But I knew what I felt, and nothing else
could facilitate the respect – shall we call it -
with which her name vibrated inside my mind.

It was a small world that I owned,
deep inside of which there was something great,
the juice that kept me running day after day -
a sight that was enough for my eyes
whose ears I could not revoke.
Something in her triggered another in me
and now perusing through my old album,
I see LOVE written all over it,
from the start until age made ‘us’ part.

©J.Kisiah 25/05/10