By Jonathan Ukah
September 22, 2024
We walk down the street
with joined hands, twined hearts,
staring at the darkness
engulfing the closed shutters,
shoppers trooping out of shops,
mothers shouting at playful children,
tugging at husbands’ arms;
father’s watching the birds perch
on grey roofs with shadowy chimneys,
watching girls chatting at the edge of the streets,
eyes at the gap between now and tomorrow,
listening to uninvited conversations,
hearing the cries of the seagulls,
waves crash at the nearby river.
When the silence between them deepens
she, too, looks elsewhere,
where flowers grow on pavements,
and the sky descends on boulevards.
where there is no one to stare at her
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
