Along the Durban ridge, late winter days,
The harbour wharves and quays in postcard gloss,
The water levelled to silvers and greys
It is too late to grieve your loss.
The absence of love hurts, like a betrayer’s kiss,
I was the child you failed to raise,
Walking the lonely hillside streets, I miss
your rare tenderness. In the evening’s haze.
The white yacht at the harbour has set sail.
Remorseless as a swan, it glides through piers,
Parsing cryptic waves that flail against
dolosses furred with sea-green moss.
This poem was published in the January 2022 Edition of the WSA Magazine
Read – The Beggars – A Poem by Elias Dodo, Nigeria
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