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wordings of the soul
The Grasshopper Days
By Kerese Udofia
POSTED 03/01/2018 17:20
Like every other child,
one can't unwind the passion meant for fun and play;
Where infants and petty teens become drawn to unlearned prowess.
Under the scorching sun,
We would teem in turns and run.
Under the foraying rain,
Each flakes plops on us with no lingering pain.
As those days wades off,
Its memories still vouch.
As its taste never drains off
Its endearing beauty still beats.
I’m stuck but yet in undiluted believe,
To the gears of the probes of my childhood days.
A carefree, random wild life rays,
I crave of seeing those nostalgia again.
The only perfect grasshopper hunting days,
Where brother's catch exceeds mine in miles,
With a sling in his hand, he would spin in piles.
Beneath the moist flowers,
Mama's deafening voice trailed,
With each voice caressing my ears,
Her words croaking for a halt
With her hands clinging to a long whooping baton,
Like the fading face of a patron.
Oh the joy of an infant!
Never ever in the day worrying,
To and fro all day panting.
Ripening smile like a sweet cherry,
When mama is home with a cherry.
All to those days and its glory
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