There lie tales encrypted on four walls,
Where memories waft forth,
Like the smoke of steamed bread,
On a Sunday night.
Visible to touch but slipped through if we tried.
There lie tales encrypted on four walls,
Where memories waft forth,
On the table are bowls filled to the brim.
Chicken soup so warm,
An assault of flavors bringing tears to my eyes;
A victim of words I cannot form.
There lie tales encrypted on four walls,
Where memories waft forth,
Tinker-tinker tea is poured, and conversations flow well
To the taste of rooibos,
One timely sip, then all is well.
There lie tales encrypted on four walls,
Where memories waft forth,
Whisk me back to Ambrosia
Whisk me back to Picante.
My belly rumbles favorably,
It’s time for dinner.
This poem was published in the 10th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
Read – Spice of the Home – Aurelia Njang Akem (Cameroon)
