Stuck in the process of crafting a line
as I chased to hold a drifting mind,
Slippery as an eel, the thoughts leave.
Up, down and sighs in ripples heave.
From viewing gorgeous almond-shaped eyes
to smiling at sweet thought-out lines.
Wishing brown chubby arms wrapped
me in warm hugs like King-Earl's raps!
I'm caught between make-believe and reality,
trying to ensure a sense of indemnity.
Back to pick up from where I stopped.
Perhaps, there are other ways to cope.
A line today...three more tomorrow.
"I'm fine", I say, "I feel no more 'sorrow'!"
Just an emptiness that never gets filled,
Like a space, a field, constantly filled.
We throw in bakes, cream, junk and films,
seeking change but chances are slim.
And I'm back to that wide-eyed beam,
which hurries, fading, like a sweet dream!
@imanikel 24072020 Frances Kelvin Otung