There she went
on the sidewalk
a hundred steps
one block.
There she came
once again
her jeans cuffed
to avoid the ponds of rain.
She wouldn't dare come inside
for her there was someone special
on the other side.
It took me quite long, long enough
to realice she had always wanted
me by her side.
I opened the door on my own
from here I could see her hair
being blown,
her face smooth and pale clear,
but her eyes inmensed in fear.
She didn't know how to face me,
that I knew,
so I did approach her myself,
at least I took the cue.
By the doorframe I layed waiting
my back flat and hands shaking,
the dark tea, my palms burning,
will you please just come and accept
from me something?
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
