shenika vermaak Poems

Childhood is hanging your pictures on the refrigerator, and tea parties you always have to cater.
Childhood is chasing butterflies and picking flowers,
playing with blocks and making towers.
Childhood is hating nap time,
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One year ago you died, and still we mourn,
Nor will our mourning end till it be night,
Even as time turns our tears to light
Years hence, when this may be more easily borne.
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You look so peaceful lying there
With your hands folded upon your chest.
You look like you are sleeping
But you are at eternal rest.
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I am like everyone else
I wonder why no one understands me
I hear the whispers
I hear em' laugh
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I sit here all alone,
holding in all I have to say.
Can't someone see me crying here?
I cry here everyday.
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When we were young I followed you,
We played, we fought, and had fun a time or two. When we grew taller,
and thought we knew it all
and one of us would fall,
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Mothers and daughters ought to be friends,
But there is a lot that gets in the way.
The determined pursuit of opposite ends,
Ends up as harsh words we would rather not say.
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You are the rose about to bloom,
The color soon to wake,
The perfume set to scent the breeze,
The bud about to break.
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To my dad on his day,
Of whom I am a living will:
May your happiness fulfill
Your goodness, as is just and right.
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I'm sorry for everything you've been through
It must've been very hard on you
I'm sorry for all that's been said and done
I was the moon, you were the sun
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