too long have we battled through the storms
clearing the debris with weary fingers, scooping
up shards of broken dreams, shattered by the
sadness of our reality. the children are no more
only in the pictures do they remain. twenty years
ago I would spend the nightly hours watching you
sleep, my love for you was always strongest then.
in sleep you was pure, a little girl huddled in her
nanas arms, a smiling child holding her grandpa's hand.
but now whilst you sleep I sit with blurry eyes
watching late night low budget sex movies lusting
silently after the black vixen with the shimmering
river Nile legs. my old retired friend wakes reminding
me of their presence, yet then comes the stirrings
of shame I am to old for this. hauling up my tired frame
groping the darkness I put myself to bed, before
wiping the spittle from your wrinkled mouth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem