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What makes you tell me, suddenly
That you love me, Pappy,
While we're inventing breakfast
On a late summer Saturday?
There must be a smile that was born with you
To elicit and surprise
The love of a father for his only child
Amid a confusion of eggs and grits
And the bacon smoke in our eyes.
Then later we're walking the avenue
On a summer Saturday afternoon
To the ice cream parlour on Main Street
Sticky hand in sweaty palm
A small white ribbon in your hair
Rainbow sherbert, vanilla apple pie
Taking turns with the flavours we can find
A prelude to your ride around the square
While I count to 30 and stand alone
Until you circle back, on your purple bike
Then I hand you a penny, no, make it a dime
To toss in the fountain by the corporate store
For you to make a ten-fold wish
In the late summer sunshine.
One day when you're older, perhaps
We'll go to Botswana and sleep under thatch
You'll play and cook with the Mochudi girls
And take the dusty trails to the general store,
Bring some water from the neighbourhood pipe
Balancing a bucket upon your head -
But I won't challenge you with this just yet
For we're home tonight, up the stairs
From the evening filled with shadowy streets
Hiding in your den of chairs and sheets
And tomorrow on awakening, Sabbath gone
You will launch a pancake bake
Berries on top, maple syrup besides
While waiting in your gold and cleats
You'll be practising coiffure upon
My long-suffering head of hair.
Frank Bana
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